


Woke up on the wrong side of reality

by Nyx_Fedra



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Reluctant Allies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Gratuitous Smut, Horcrux Hunting, Implied/Referenced Torture, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Second War with Voldemort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:20:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 72,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28116828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyx_Fedra/pseuds/Nyx_Fedra
Summary: At her breaking point, Narcissa risks everything and follows a hunch she has on Severus Snape to save Draco from the Dark Lord constant torture. That’s how Draco Malfoy ends up waking up in a tent in the middle of nowhere, Potter, Weasley and Granger perched over him, his wrists bound to an old camping cot and his wand nowhere to be found.His mother had exchanged his life for a cup, a stupid cup, entrusting him to their helpless enemies.She had clearly lost her mind.‘It’s notjusta cup’ said Granger gritting her teeth.‘It’s not just a cup’ Draco repeated mocking her.‘This is going to be a disaster’ muttered Potter massaging his temples.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott/Harry Potter
Comments: 170
Kudos: 399





	1. The Deal

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language so forgive the mistakes if you can.

It began with his hand.

Severus Snape’s hand twitched involuntary on his side while the Dark Lord spoke about his plans for Hogwarts, the Ministry and the entire Wizarding World on a late August evening. Narcissa saw it, and even though it would have been inconsequential for everyone it wasn’t for her. She had known Severus since they were eleven years’ old, and there had been only one prior occasion in which she had seen his hand twitch like that. The hands of a potion master could have no involuntary movements, so only something truly distressing could bring them about. It planted the seed of suspicion inside her, growing slowly alongside the hope she’d thought she lost after Dumbledore’s demise. She knew she couldn’t count on her husband, he’d failed again and again, unable to keep their boy safe, and she couldn’t stand still anymore, she wouldn’t. If there was even the hint of a possibility for her to keep Draco from further harm she would have taken it, no matter the cost.

She couldn’t rely on Severus just as much as couldn’t rely on Lucius, but if she followed him closely she knew she would find a way, a way to prevent Draco from being tortured again and again.

The last time, he had screamed for hours under the relentless cruciato that the Dark Lord had subjected him to, and he still had not woken up. Severus had looked at him and reassured her with a flat tone that the damage was mostly physical, his mind hadn’t been damaged like the Longbottoms. His hand never twitched again, but Narcissa looked at Severus and the way he behaved closely, carefully knitting the invisible spiderweb on which she could move without attracting too much attention to herself, and when she saw what she thought was her opportunity, she took it.

Narcissa had prepared in advance for it, she needed something to trade for Draco’s life, and she thought she had found something that belonged to Bellatrix that could be enough to grant his safety. Then, in December, when the first snow had already fallen, she saw Severus excuse himself to leave after meeting alone with the Dark Lord, and his hand had twitched again. It twitched just like it did back when they were kids, back when he tried to stand up against her cousin Sirius and his friends, a mix of fear and confidence, and she decided that it must have been the day. He was going to do something and she would follow him, slipping right through the cracks in order to get Draco to safety.

To make sure that it wasn’t just her hope clouding her judgment, Narcissa performed some divination, consulting the tea leaves and confirming that yes, it was a fateful day. Either one way or another she would have gotten Draco out the house, he couldn’t withstand anything more. He still hadn’t fully woken up from the last round of torture, he’d just briefly regained consciousness for some hours, looking mostly tired and disoriented.

It was time, and there was one last thing she needed to do.

Narcissa had consulted the same book the Dark Lord had consulted years ago, a book which was kept on a secreted and restricted section of the Malfoy family library, and that before that she had seen only once on the day of her wedding, when Lucius had explained to her its value and its use. Narcissa placed a silencing spell on Draco’s room and prayed that what she had learned was enough.

‘I’m so sorry my love, it will be okay, I will make it okay’ she said caressing his cheek, trying to smooth the frown that seemed to be constantly on Draco’s face.

‘Everything will be alright soon, I promise, I will make it okay’ she kept talking, hoping that hearing her voice might help him. Narcissa grabbed his left arm at the wrist and then she plunged her sister’s cursed dagger into his forearm, while he convulsed and screamed, his eyes blinking awake still dazed but conscious of the pain.

‘It will end soon, it will be okay my love, it will be okay’ she kept repeating while Draco’s blood poured over the sheets.

* * *

She appeared with a crack that made Hermione scream. They were still in a daze after destroying the locket and they weren’t even able to react fast enough. Still sitting on the ground, they barely had time to stand up and take their wands out before the unbelievable scene unfolded in front of their eyes.

Narcissa Malfoy kneeling on snow in front of them, what looked like an almost dead Draco Malfoy in her arms.

He was covered in blood, and Harry felt sick in his stomach, the scene different yet too similar to the Sectumsempra incident not even a year ago at Hogwarts. It felt like a life time ago after everything that had happened afterwards, but Malfoy was once again covered in blood, looking more dead than alive.

Narcissa, on the other hand, seemed elated. She looked at them with a smile, clearly satisfied that she had found them, but it lasted barely a couple of seconds, Draco’s breath rattled in his chest and her attention was back to her son.

‘Please’ she said looking back up at the three of them ‘ _please,_ help him’

‘If you think you can just call You-Know-Who I will…’ Ron began to say, wand raised and adrenaline clearly still running high through his veins from destroying the locket.

‘Please help my son, I’m begging you’ Narcissa said interrupting him.

‘Why should we do that? Why should we trust you?’ asked Hermione, trying to be firm and rational, but Harry could see his own worry for Malfoy reflected in her eyes.

It was a feeling, something inside him that told him that Narcissa was not here to trick them or trying to capture them, she really was here for Draco.

‘He’s been tortured daily, cruciatus and so much worse, please’ she pleaded again, tears forming in her eyes.

‘it’s just the consequences of his own actions’ Ron spit angrily, and he was right, but he also wasn’t, and Harry kept silent, trying to figure out what to do.

‘He’s just a boy, please, you’re all so young’ said Narcissa looking at them, as if she was suddenly realising that, ‘I know, I know he was mean to you in school, I know because his father pushed him to be, and like any boy he wanted his father to be proud of him. It’s as much as Lucius’ fault as it is mine, we failed him. I never wanted him to take the mark, to accept the mission the Dark Lord gave him, but after Lucius’ failure the Dark Lord gave Draco a false choice, mine and Lucius’ life spared if he killed Dumbledore. It was never anything more than a suicide mission, he was never meant to survive. Please, I cannot just stand and watch my baby be tortured and killed’

‘What about all other mothers and sons…’

‘Ron, that’s enough’ said Hermione, her voice thundering through the woods.

'But, Hermione…’

‘What happened to his arm?’ Hermione asked instead taking two steps towards Narcissa, wand still in her hand, pointing to the towel red with blood that was wrapped around his left forearm.

‘I took the mark out’ answered Narcissa, carefully unwrapping the towel and exposing the bloody mess that was Malfoy’s arm. She had removed the mark, craved away his skin.

Harry, Ron and Hermione gasped at the sight. Harry had to look away until he was sure it was covered again, Ron almost vomited, and Hermione was the only one who stepped forward still, looking at the wound.

‘Dittany isn’t working properly, it’s because it’s a dark curse of sorts, I’ve done what I could with what I knew, I bought supplies for you to use’ Narcissa said looking at Hermione with hope in her eyes, leaving a small bag on the snow near her. It was surely enchanted inside like Hermione’s, and Harry wondered how long had she been planning this.

‘How do we know they aren’t poisoned or cursed?’ asked Ron, still hostile, and Harry grimaced. He was glad Ron was back but him leaving had wounded both him and Hermione deeply even if they hadn’t talked about it yet.

‘Draco will have to have them as well’ Narcissa responded calmly, her hand soothing on Malfoy’s arm, who’s face seemed to be stuck into a perpetual frown of pain which made Harry shiver.

He was tired of people dying, and even if Malfoy had been terrible to them, he could recognise there had been extenuating circumstances for what he had done in sixth year.

‘But…;

‘Enough Ron!’

‘Hermione!’ Ron shouted, cheeks red in anger and frustration.

‘I said enough!’ Hermione repeated, standing her ground ‘This… this war will never end if we don’t stop and look at each other as more than Gryffindor and Slytherins, pureblood and mudbloods. She grew up in a family that thought her what we know is wrong, and it’s hard, to let your family go even if you know they’re wrong, to go against them, and even if you do you will never be okay. Remember how sad Sirius always was about his brother? and then what Regulus did? She made bad choices but Narcissa is here, kneeling in the snow, clearly apologising for them. She’s putting her life on the line for her son, and Malfoy… yes, he was mean in school, but remember how tormented he looked in sixth year? He never wanted to take it further than poisoned words at school, and he certainly couldn’t know this is what would happen. How many more need to die senselessly for this stupid war?’

Harry stood silent, once again in admiration of Hermione and her capacity to use words. He was good with words only when he was angry apparently, and now, Malfoy half dead in front of him, his mother kneeling and pleading… he was scared just like he had been in the prefects bathroom, and grateful Hermione had taken charge of the situation.

‘I was just indulging him, we never thought…. all the years Lucius kept in contact with other Death Eaters, we never thought he would really come back, and then things spiralled out of control… I knew it would be hard to trust me, so I came with something we can exchange for you to take care of Draco, to take him with you and save him from the Dark Lord. Help me make this right’

Narcissa briefly let go of Malfoy, his arm falling on the snow and marking it red with blood, twisting Harry’s guts. He would not allow Malfoy to die on his watch, making him feel guilty about it for the rest of his life like in a sick, twisted joke. No way.

‘I don’t know what you are doing, or what you are looking for, but I heard my sister talk with the Dark Lord about something she kept safe in the Black family vault. I have access to it, so I retrieved it for you. In exchange for Draco’s life’ she said taking something shiny out from a pocket of her black robe.

She placed the small shiny cup on the snow next to the enchanted bag, and Harry felt his heart stutter.

It was an Horcrux. He could feel it.

Narcissa Malfoy had just given them an Horcrux, in exchange for Draco Malfoy’s life.

It was really happening, and Harry could barely make sense of it.

‘Helga Hufflepuff ’s cup’ Hermione whispered, looking at it while careful about keeping her distance after what had happened with the locket.

‘It’s a deal’ Harry said finally speaking, astonishing Ron while Hermione gave him a small smile and a nod.

Narcissa looked so relieved to hear it, that it was like she was finally breathing again. She folded herself over Malfoy, trying to hide the first tears that started to fall from her eyes. As weird as it sounded, as selfish as Narcissa’s action were, it felt like hope to Harry. He was more hopeful now than after destroying the locket, because for Narcissa Malfoy to risk everything for her son and come and find them… it had to mean something. Not all of those that should have been loyal followed Voldemort without questions.

Harry seemed to realise at the same time as Hermione that the tears that were now shaking Narcissa’s small body were not only relief. She was probably going to die once she left, once they discovered Draco was gone, if whatever plan she’d concocted didn’t work, and they had to move soon afterwards as well with an unconscious Malfoy. It did cross his mind then that Ron could be right, that it could be a trap, that maybe Voldemort had let Narcissa go so that he could find them, but Harry felt nothing, his scar had already stopped pulsing, and knowing Voldemort he was probably raging somewhere, hurting every poor soul that had the misfortune to find themselves around him. Harry looked at Narcissa once again, kneeling in the snow and holding her son’s broken body in her arms and felt guilty once again. He just wanted all of this to stop, he didn’t want to see someone else becoming an orphan, and in a weird way he also understood Malfoy. Because he, too, would probably had done everything he could to keep his parents safe if he had known them, and if his parents had been different people, maybe he would have been mean too. Hermione was also right: it was never going to end if they didn’t extend a hand towards them now. Narcissa had clearly regretted all of her choices that had led to Malfoy getting hurt, carved her own son’s arm and risked her and her husband’s life to save Draco from the consequences of the choices they’d forced him to make.

On his left, Harry could see Hermione’s mind already sprinting twenty steps ahead of him. She already had a plan for the cup, the supplies they’d just acquired and how to manage a broken and injured Draco Malfoy while moving to a new and safer place. Ron was still skeptical, but Harry knew he would come around. It had been Lucius to put the diary in Ginny’s hands, and what had Draco ever done beside mean words and giving unfair punishments under Umbridge? Hermione was right, even at his meanest in fifth year, he’d never been more than a mean rival, he didn’t deserve to die painfully and slowly like he looked he had for the past months.

‘How did you find us?’ Harry asked in the end, both curious and worried. They had been careful, but maybe not enough, or maybe Narcissa was just _that_ desperate.

‘I followed the patronus cast by Severus’

‘Snape?’ Ron almost screamed, dumbfounded.

‘What was his patrons?’ Harry asked stepping forward, almost shaking, because there was just one patronus they had seen, and it had been…

‘A doe’ Narcissa said, carefully cradling Draco’s head to her chest when he moaned in pain, still unconscious ‘I think he’s secretly working with the Order in a way. I don’t know much, I did’t ask him. I had managed to corner him into making an Unbreakable Vow after Draco was tasked with his mission, forcing him to look out for him, but he doesn’t care even if he tolerates Draco because he was his best student. I just followed him because it was my only hope to get him out, he doesn’t even know. I’ve been… very careful with my plan’

Harry looked at Hermione and Ron, the latter still skeptical. He didn’t completely understand the bit about Snape, he _refused_ to even acknowledge that Snape could have the same patronus as his mother, but something inside him told him that Dumbledore wouldn’t have been so stupid as to trust Snape if then it was all for nothing. There was so much Dumbledore had not told him.

‘We will take him with us then’ Harry repeated, moving towards them, because they couldn’t stand still too much, not so close to where an Horcrux had just been destroyed and another was just laying in the snow.

Narcissa’s eyes swelled with fresh tears. She profusely thanked him and Hermione was already moving, kneeling next to Narcissa in the snow and assessing Draco’s condition.

Narcissa kept cradling him, stroking his cheeks, holding his hand, telling him how sorry she was for everything they’d put him through, and Harry could barely watch. It was… heartbreaking.

‘Mother loves you so much, so much, you are so, so loved, my baby’

Those words… tore something open in Harry, it felt like a memory, and it made him even more determined in wanting to help the woman that was in front of him. Ignoring Ron’s protests, he knelt next to Hermione, reassuring Narcissa that they would take care of Draco while she reluctantly let go of him, letting his body fall into Hermione’s arms while Ron stood still behind them, shuffling awkwardly on his feet.

‘Mom… mom… please’ Malfoy seemed to mutter once Narcissa let go of him completely, and that seemed to almost break her.

‘As long as I live, I will not forget this Mister Potter’ she said standing up on firmer legs then he though she would have. Harry was just beginning to realise how strong she was, even if she looked small and fragile, because if she lived, she would have been one, if not the only, to trick Voldemort and survive.

He nodded, realising the meaning of her words, that she would help them, if she made it. Harry didn’t know her but he understood enough about her to know that her help wouldn’t have been some grand gesture, but it was enough. Better a quiet ally than another enemy.

She walked ten steps away from them and then turned around, glancing down one last time at Malfoy’s unconscious body in Hermione’s arms and a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

‘Goodbye my little star’ she said, and then she disapparated away, maybe to her death, leaving them in the silence of the forest, Draco Malfoy’s blood turning the snow red and Helga Hufflepuff’s cup radiating dark magic not far from them.

‘Bloody hell’ Ron said braking the silence.

* * *

Narcissa screamed, she screamed and fell to her knees on the hard marble floor.

It wasn’t hard to act. She just let the pain show for the first time in years. The body of the snatcher she had killed and turned into Draco resting in her son’s bed. Lucius was too far gone to really process it even if he didn’t know it wasn’t real, and the other Death Eaters only looked at them with mild compassion if not open despise, hoping to take their place as favourites now that they had been made an example of. Bellatrix barely looked at her nephew’s body, she had never liked children and she had never liked Draco, she’d always said he looked too fragile and weak minded to survive, too much Malfoy blood in his veins and not enough Black.

The Dark Lord came to look as well, pleased to have finally reached the result he had hoped for since he’d forced Draco to take the mark. Narcissa felt him brush her mind like always, he delighted in feeling their fear and pain and devotion, he basked in it, and Narcissa gave all the grief and pain she had to give to him, buried the truth so deep she began to doubt it herself.

Severus was the only one who looked troubled first and suspicious afterwards, but Draco was buried the next day in a corner of the Manor’s garden, and then the daily demands of the Dark Lord prevented him to mull over it further.

Narcissa bowed her head and kept quiet, she did her best to survive, resenting and loving Lucius at the same time, trying to keep him together before he crumbled, too. The smell of burning flash lingering in the fireplace of Draco’s room the only proof of the lies she’d told.


	2. The Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malfoy looked at her with hate in his eyes, it was the same look he used back at Hogwarts, and it was weirdly comforting, familiar.

His nightmares were confusing, painful and muddled.

Draco could hear his mother’s soothing words, but also Potter and Weasley arguing, the Dark Lord’s laugh while the pain of the cruciato made his blood boil in his veins. Then there was Granger telling him he would be fine, that she was fixing it, that she knew what to do, a note of panic in her voice he had never heard before.

The first time he opened his eyes, he didn’t realise he’d opened them at all. There was darkness around him, and silence. He could hear the sound of a small fire, and see a faint light on his right, but when he tried to turn towards it, Draco felt his whole body spasm, pain slicing through him and making him scream.

He stopped breathing when a hand landed on his chest, pushing him back down. Draco moved his head despite the pain and saw Hermione Granger rise from the floor next to where he was lying down, her hair wilder than usual, a look of worry on her face.

‘Don’t move’ she said, bright eyes assessing him.

But Draco couldn’t move even if he wanted to. Was this another sick game? Was Bellatrix playing with him again? Was the Dark Lord?

‘P-Please… please’ he found himself whispering even if he didn’t want to, even if he tried to be strong. He failed every time, like always, just like his father.

‘It’s gonna be alright, your fever is still high, you need to sleep more. Harry, hold him’ Granger said and he felt hands on his shoulder.

Draco looked up and saw Potter’s face, his eyes full of pity while they looked at him through his glasses. He hated it.

It _had_ to be a game, another one of their sick games, and it scared him to death.

‘Please don’t… please, please I’ll do whatever you want… please’ Draco didn’t care that he was crying and shaking, he couldn’t take it, he couldn’t endure it, he wasn’t strong enough.

‘It’ll be alright, Malfoy’ Granger said, her cold hand grasping his jaw and forcing his mouth open.

He drank the potion without resisting, knowing full well what would happen if he struggled too much. Draco closed his eyes waiting for the pain to explode, but it never arrived. He just felt extremely tired. Potter’s hands left his shoulders, and Granger’s moved to his burning forehead, as if she was trying to feel his fever.

Did he have a fever? Was that why he was sweating?

‘She really wasn’t joking about what they did to him’ was one of the last things Draco heard, it sounded a lot like Weasley. Then a sigh that he just knew was Potter’s.

‘Go to sleep, you’ll feel better the next time you wake up’ Granger whispered, her breath tickling his ear, her hand brushing his hair away from his face.

He wondered what Bellatrix would do next. The kinder she was before, the more violent she would be afterwards.

Draco called for his mother, but she never came, not even in his dreams.

* * *

The second time he opened his eyes, it was cold.

He stared for what felt like hours at the ceiling that wasn’t there, replaced by a piece of cloth that he could see was burden by the weight of snow even through the spells that kept it up. For the life of him, Draco couldn’t understand why would he be in a tent. In a shabby one, at that.

He tried to move but found his wrists bound to an equally shabby camping cot that squeaked with his every moment, the noise going slightly to his head as it reminded him of the echoes of screams he could hear every night at the Manor.

Why wasn’t he at the Manor? Where were his parents? His mother? What had happened? The last thing he remembered was the Dark Lord torturing him again, his father paralysed in a corner and Bellatrix grinning. He was struggling to breathe, so he tried to Occlude and keep calm. It was something he could be very good at, he knew, but the constant attacks made his body so weak he could barely think straight some days. He was so tired, his left arm burned so much, and Draco felt the panic rise in him too fast, knowing that there was nothing he could do to stop it.

‘Oh, he’s awake!’

The voice seemed like Potter’s, but that would be absolutely impossible. Yet, less than a minute later, he found Granger, Potter and Weasley perched over him, his ears ringing with a kind of panic that didn’t allow him to understand a thing of what they were saying. He couldn’t wrap his mind around what was happening, was he still being tortured? Was this a trick? An illusion? Had he gone crazy?

‘Malfoy, it’s alright, you’re safe’ Granger’s voice broke through the thick fog of his mind and made him jerk, the cot rattling underneath him. ‘We had to… bound you because you moved too much while having nightmares, it hindered your recovery and…’

‘AND’ Wesley interrupted, stern faced, trying for a firm tone ‘we don’t trust you, no matter what your mother said’

At the mention of his mother, Draco’s heart picked up speed.

‘Please don’t hurt her! Please, please, I’ll do anything. Just… Just let me… I will prove my loyalty, I will fix my father’s mistakes, I swear, please, don’t hurt my mother’ Draco had to let go of his pride long ago, so he wasn’t reluctant to beg. The Dark Lord seemed to enjoy it sometimes, but it was a thin line, and if he crossed it and annoyed him, the consequences could be dire.

‘Malfoy, this is…. you’re not at the Manor anymore’ Granger said. She was kneeling next to him, and she looked almost sad.

This had to be Bellatrix. It had to be. She was the one who enjoyed this kind of sick tricks.

‘Please’ he repeated ‘Aunt Bella, please… I know you never liked me and my father, but Narcissa’s is your sister! Please!’

‘This is worse than I imagined’ Potter muttered to himself.

Draco’s eyes darted between the three of them, trying to decipher the look they were giving each other, trying to see which one would have Bellatrix’s smirk, the one that always preceded the pain.

‘Malfoy’ said Granger, her hands suddenly on his shoulders, making his anxiety spike and his breath hitch while he tried to prepare for the pain, ‘you’re not at the Manor anymore. This is really us. Your mother risked everything to get you here, to keep you safe’

The words shocked Draco as much as the threat of another cruciato, pain and fear making every cell in his body scream.

’No, NO! NO! I swear, I SWEAR! We’re loyal! WE’RE LOYAL! She would never betray you!’

Granger sighted looking at at Potter while Weasley seemed to feel suddenly guilty of his own anger.

‘He’s just getting better, we can’t afford to drag his recovery any longer, he will get hurt if he keeps going like this’ she said, and Potter nodded.

‘I’m actually dreading what happens when he comes back to himself’ Potter said with a sigh, but then he made a small movement with his hand and Weasley disappeared form Draco’s field of vision, reappearing a second later.

‘Alright, time to sleep again, Malfoy’ said Weasley, his hot and sweaty hands forcing his mouth open to drink the thick and sour potion to the last drop.

Then there was nothing.

* * *

Hermione blamed everything that was happening for the way she was feeling.

Draco Malfoy was literally dropped in front of her by a distressed Narcissa Malfoy after they dramatically destroyed the locket that tore apart hers and Harry’s friendship with Ron. All of this while there was a war going on, while they were trying to keep away from Snatchers, not fall for the Taboo on Voldemort’s name and find the other missing Horcruxes.

Malfoy’s arrival had been scary at first, a small flicker of hope in the darkness secondly, and a clear liability on their capacity to move quickly afterwards. There was also the issue of what to do once he woke up, as he was clearly in pain at the moment but could well enough choose to turn on them. Hermione wouldn’t have put that past him, but not for the reasons she had once thought he would: he was scared for his family’s safety, desperate, and he would have done everything for them. She understood that, even if it had pushed them to make two dramatically different choices on the matter.

Nevertheless, she found a weird comfort in his presence. It quickly became a habit, sleeping next to Malfoy’s cot, making sure he was alright. The wound were the Dark Mark had been was what was giving her problems, it acted like it was infected even if it physically wasn’t, the remnants of dark magic poisoning his blood and making him delirious with fever _and_ pain. It twisted something inside her, slowly uncovering the extent of his wounds. Harry had also been upset at the sight when they first saw the Sectumsempra scars that marked his chest, so much so that he had left the tent to stand outside in silence for half the day, guilt once again wrecking him. On his part, except for the nightmares, Malfoy was mostly silent and quiet even in his sleep, a bit cold when the fever died down. In the small tent at night, he almost didn’t feel like an unusual addition to their trio as Ron remained the only who snored, while Malfoy breathed lightly, as if he was on his tiptoes even in his sleep.

Which was probably why Hermione had come to love the nights in which Ron had to keep watch. In the silence of the tent, with Malfoy and Harry sleeping, she felt like she could let her brain rest for a moment, let her mind drift to useless and easy things like the state of her hair, the hole in that pair of socks or in that shirt that needed to be repaired. Harry wasn’t a light sleeper, she suspected Malfoy was one, but given the quantity of potions she had to give him on a daily basis, she knew he wouldn’t wake up anytime soon. So in the silence of the tent, she turned towards him and told him things: she whispered about her heartbreak when Ron left, how she still hadn’t forgiven him, how she avoided to press further on the matter simply because they had other more important things to focus on; she told him about her insecurities, even joking about how well he knew about them; and when she felt like crying, Hermione told him about her parents. It was liberating in a way, but it also left her feeling guilty for finding solace in someone that was clearly suffering in a way that his mean words at Hogwarts had never made her suffer. She was also angry at herself, because it was temporary and she had allowed herself to get accustomed to it anyway, even if she knew that once Malfoy woke up, it would all be complicated again.

Extremely complicated, unless she played her cards well.

* * *

Hermione remained irritable for days after the second time Malfoy woke up, with Harry and Ron gracefully giving her space for once. As always , it was his arm that was giving her trouble. It had actually scared her at first, the way the dark magic almost seemed to eat his arm from the inside out, but then whatever Narcissa had done started to work - judging from the scar, Hermione assumed she had used a cursed blade, a curse for a curse, one cancelling the other - and Malfoy was decidedly better, on the road for a full recovery since the fever disappeared completely. It was time to stop with the Draught of the Living Dead and let him wake up. They still needed to destroy the cup, they still needed to figure out the other Horcruxes, and they needed to asses how Malfoy would factor in all of this, how much he was going to work against them, how much he was going to help them. There wasn’t time for her to even think of mourning the loss of the time she had carved for herself at night while taking care of him.

She felt cornered and she hated it, but Hermione tried to push everything down anyway, trying to prepare for what a conscious Malfoy would be like. Hostile, probably, cooperative in the best case scenario. In order to make it easier for everyone, when it was finally time to properly wake him up, Hermione shooed Ron and Harry away, trying to delay what she was sure was going to be an inevitably heated argument between them. She couldn’t risk Malfoy panicking like the last time he woke up. They needed to make progress, they needed move, and they couldn’t spend hours doing so because they had to carry an unconscious Slytherins.

‘Alright, both of you, _out_. I’ll do it’ she said, hands on her hips.

‘What? _Why_?’ asked Ron surprised.

Hermione was still kind-of avoiding him, as much as they could avoid one another in the current situation, since she was still upset and angry about him leaving. But once again, she had no time for things like that, she _couldn’t_. It was just something else she pushed down hoping things would get easier. It didn’t look like they were getting easier, everything always seemed to get more and more complicated.

‘Because you, Ronald Weasley, are too aggressive and he’s too stressed at the moment, and Harry feels so guilty he’ll probably just stand in a corner in silence looking _extremely guilty_ , which would freak him out even more. I’ll manage him. Once he’s back in himself and we start fighting again I’ll miss this’ she huffed.

‘Fair enough’ Harry said while putting a hand on Ron’s shoulder, stopping him from following her back into the tent.

‘Are we just going to leave her alone with him?’ Ron asked.

‘He’s bound with a spell to the cot, Ron!’ she said without turning, annoyed, and that was the end of it.

Once she was inside, she sat on the edge of Malfoy’s cot, wand in hand and prepared to whisper the spell that would allow him to wake up. She hesitated, mostly because she didn’t want to lose the small routine she had created for herself, as selfish as that was, and also because she didn’t know if she had the strength to also fight _him_ on top of everything else that was happening. She was exhausted, but she had so much to do, she couldn’t afford to just stop.

With a sight, Hermione raised her wand and pronounced the incantation.

She prepared for this, and when he opened his eyes she was already in his field of vision, one hand on his chest to keep him down. Now that he was mostly healed, Hermione found him stronger than she expected him to be. The potions and sleep had not only healed the damage from the torture, but also undone some of the strain created in the last months by constant anxiety and little eating.

His eyes were like a whirlpool of liquid silver, fixed on her, and making something inside her twist when he held his breath. He was anticipating pain. he always seemed to be.

‘Malfoy. This is not a dream. You are not at the Manor anymore. Three weeks ago, your mother managed to get you out and she found us, and she asked us to take care of of you, you were badly injured…’

‘She would never do that’ his words were bitter, angry, and she heard some of the Malfoy she used to know in them.

Hermione couldn’t avoid it anymore. She took his left arm and carefully lifted the sleeve of the shirt so that he could see where the Dark Mark had been.

’She did everything she could’ she said, and Malfoy’s eyes carefully moved from her face to his arm.

He stared at the huge, jagged scar on his left forearm with wide eyes, and Hermione thought he looked like a little kid, scared and suddenly extremely fragile, trying to put together what had happened to him.

‘She wanted…’ she started.

‘ _Don’t_ ’ he hissed, interrupting her.

His anger and disappointment were evident, and Hermione wondered what was it really for. The Mark? Despite all the words he had thrown her way since they were children, she doubted he truly believed in them. There were so many other muggle borns at Hogwarts other than her, yet she was the only one he called mudblood. No, his hate had been linked more to Harry and what he represented to his family than to the supposed impure status of her blood, she was fairly certain of it.

He was still looking at his arm, but they needed to keep going. She didn’t want to overwhelm him with too much information, but she also didn’t want to stall too much and get stuck on a single topic.

‘Your mother said that she found us because she followed Snape’s patronus. Apparently he’s secretly working for the Order and he helped us. Do you know anything about it?’ she said without mentioning the sword of Gryffindor or the locket.

Malfoy let out a bitter laugh, closing his eyes and clearly trying to keep his anger in check, struggling against the restraints.

‘That fucking bastard’

‘I know you think of him as a traitor but do you…’

’That _fucking bastard_ ’ Malfoy repeated interrupting her, and he wasn’t talking to her, he seemed to be talking to himself out loud, a frown of pain on his face. She wondered if his arm was hurting, but before she could ask about it he spoke again: ‘He could have helped me then, he _really_ could have helped me instead of shoving me against walls and asking me what I was doing. What the hell did he expected me to say? _Why_ didn’t he help me? Why did Dumbledore offer me and my family protection and help only right before he died? And of course, _of course_ , even Severus _fucking_ Snape is helping Saint Potter’ he spit out.

Hermione was stuck by his words, she had heard Harry’s side of what had happened that night, but she had never wondered what it had been like for Malfoy. Even with an Unbreakable Vow to bind him, Severus Snape had been unable to make use of the minimum social skills required to help a scared sixteen years old. She almost wanted to say she was sorry, but then it would have sounded ridiculous to both of them. Hollow words for him and too much hubris on her part, as if she could have changed something if she had known. Months of war and Horcrux hunting had made her wonder about Dumbledore but also about the Order, about all the mistakes that had been made.

Malfoy scoffed, taking her out of her head. He seemed to regret speaking, she could clearly see him trying to calm himself down and failing.

‘I bet you’re thinking I deserved it’

‘I am not’

‘Well maybe I did, maybe I did deserve it, but my mother doesn’t, and my father…’

‘You’re father had it coming’ Hermione practically hissed, interrupting him this time. ‘You know what the muggle saying is, Malfoy? Fuck around and find out’

Malfoy looked at her with hate in his eyes, it was the same look he used back at Hogwarts, and it was weirdly comforting, _familiar_. He then pressed his lips into a thin line, nostrils flaring with anger. It was always anger and fear with him, fear and anger. He looked like he would have bit her if she got too close and part of her wanted him to, she wanted to get too close, provoke him and create a chance for herself to finally explode with what she was suppressing inside.

Instead she took a breath and kept going.

‘There are some ground rules, Malfoy. Until we know we can trust you, that is, until you sort yourself and your beliefs out, there will be conversations and situations from which you will be barred, by magic if necessary. You are not allowed to walk past the wards, and when we travel you will be bound to me as Ron would probably just leave you to die in a ditch if the occasion presents itself, and we cannot have Harry get hurt on your account’

He scoffed at that, and then he tried to recreate his facade by smirking. It didn’t quite work as well as it used to, his muscles seemed to reject the motion, twitching involuntarily. Maybe he had frowned in pain for too long.

‘What if I don’t believe you?’ he said in the end.

‘This is the third time you wake up, but the first you’re not burning with a fever. You are fine now, physically. If this wasn’t real you’d know it by now’

‘And if I still don’t believe you?’

Hermione didn’t even let out a sigh at that, she expected it, honestly. She took out the bag that Narcissa had left them and showed it to Draco, without allowing him to touch it. She had checked it throughly after they created a new camp in an isolated forest in Wales, and she had moved the supplies that were inside to her own enchanted bag, leaving only the Horcrux-cup in the bag, hoping not to repeat what had happened with the locket. The cup probably had a different curse to protect it, but given that Narcissa had said it had been Bellatrix’s, maybe the fact that it was taken by her sister and given voluntary had managed not to trigger it. Just like a cursed knife appeared to have managed to get around the powerful dark magic of the Mark.

Malfoy looked at the bag straining his neck, clearly recognising it and swallowing with difficulty. Hermione could see it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to control himself. Once, she would have expected him to scream _’I’ll tell my father’_ , but now she could see the mechanisms he had developed by living in close proximity with Voldemort setting into motion behind his eyes and failing to do their job properly, frustrating him and stressing him out even more.

‘Great, so my mother went absolutely mental and now she’s probably dead’ he said, and Hermione grimaced. He caught the expression immediately, and anger took over sadness on his face.

‘What? Are you pitying me now? I’m surprised you’re just standing there doing nothing. This is your chance, _mudblood_ , take your revenge’ he shouted, clearly trying to rile her up.

He wanted a fight as much as she wanted one and, once again, the notion was weirdly comforting to her. Maybe having him conscious and talking wasn’t going to be that bad, maybe he could even be useful. She would enjoy screaming at someone without thinking too deeply about the implications of it like it happened with Ron.

‘Your mother is fine, Malfoy. Apparently she’s become the only person who tricked You-Know-Who and got away with it. Maybe second, if we can confirm the bit about Snape. And you, well… you’re already dead’ she said leaving on his chest a battered copy of the Daily Prophet that Ron had managed to find in the trash when he went to the nearest town to buy some bread and milk two weeks before. One of their rare excursions into more populated places to replenish their supplies.

The headline on the front page said: _Malfoy and Black family mourns loss of only heir Draco, killed in the war,_ a picture of Malfoy, probably from the days of his father’s trial, next to it.

Hermione freed one of his hands so that he could sit if he wanted to, but Malfoy immediately grabbed the paper and brought it to his face, his silver eyes darkening and turning into pools of sadness and confusion when they settled on what was clearly an old photo of Narcissa from the time of the Quidditch World Cup.

Hermione left the tent before she could see him cry.


	3. The Exchange

Of all the things he should have been thinking about, his mind remained stuck on the fact that he almost cried in front of Hermione _fucking_

Granger. Perhaps, his mind had focused on it because too many improbable things had happened for him to properly make sense of them, so he clung to what came easy, to what was familiar, and that was never showing weakness to Granger, fight with Granger, be angry at Granger.

Honestly, he hated her. He hated the whole situation.

Draco was sitting on a squeaking old cot, in a tent that had seen better days, an almost destroyed copy of the Daily Prophet clutched in his left hand, the other still chained by a spell, his wand nowhere to be found. One impossible thing after another. What was more devastating for him to come to terms with was the fact that he’d fully expected to die at the Manor, by hand of the Dark Lord or Aunt Bellatrix. Instead he ended up with Potter, his _mother_ had delivered him to Potter. Narcissa Malfoy, wildly known as the quiet Black sister, nothing like Bellatrix or Andromeda, or maybe she was made by the same stock after all, she’d lied to the Dark Lord, married Lucius even though none of the Blacks had ever liked his father as much as they liked the Lestrange brothers to which both Bellatrix and Narcissa should have been delivered in marriage to. His mother was not someone who could be underestimated, Draco had just began to understand that.

Guilt took his breath away. It was impossible for him to even comprehend the fact that he would not be beside his parents. His family was all he had, what he had been thought to value above everything, even himself. Truth be told, Draco was afraid of his own mind, of all he’d pushed down trying to survive, trying to save his family since everything started to go terribly wrong after his father was arrested at the Department of Mysteries. No, if he had to be honest, things had started turning sour after he went to Hogwarts, maybe because of Potter, but also because of his father’s stubbornness, his incapacity to let go of the past and reach for the new.

Draco didn’t believe that Potter could win, he also didn’t believe the Dark Lord would reign as a supreme leader without opposition whatsoever anytime soon. So he had to place his bets, pick a side, even if he didn’t like either.

All he’d wanted was for his father to be proud of him, yet all Lucius ever did was complain about Potter, talk about the Dark Lord, and Draco had repeated his words and assimilated the hate in the vain hope that he could be at the centre of his father’s universe again. Instead he’d been marked and sent on a suicide mission, and now he was Merlin knew where with Potter of all people.

Draco looked at his left forearm and grimaced. The scar where the Dark Mark had been was ugly, all red and raised skin, and he almost wished his mother hadn’t taken it away. It was his failure, his father’s, his burden to carry, yet his mother had tried to save them all anyway. She didn’t deserve to be left in the Manor to fight for survival alone, but she had risked so much for him, and Draco couldn’t bear to disappoint her by doing something stupid spurred by sentimentality. He had to edge the risk, assess what the situation with Potter was, and see what he could get. He just needed to remain calm, in control, not to lose his temper, but he was already slipping. Too much had happened, and he felt tired and disoriented, a touch overwhelmed.

He took a deep breath and then another, and little by little he started to build up his Occlumency again. When Potter, Granger and Weasley entered the tent, Draco was ready to face them.

They looked worse than he remembered, and the fact didn’t give him much hope. Were they just hiding? That seemed unlikely, they were Gryffindors at heart, but maybe for once they’d taken the smart route and tried to go for a smart strategy: hide until they could attack successfully.

‘Malfoy’ Potter said, and Weasley immediately looked displeased by the greeting.

‘Potter’

‘I know… these are not ideal circumstances’

‘Well, that’s the understatement of the century’ Draco couldn’t stop himself from interrupting.

‘As I was saying’ Potter started again, a hand on Weasley’s shoulders to stop him from charging at him, ‘despite everything, if… you want to sand with us, we will be happy to welcome you’

There were several minutes of silence after that. Potter seemed completely serious, holding himself high, making Draco scoff at the audacity.

’Is that supposed to be an inspirational speech? Because if that’s so that is why you have so few members in the Order’

‘We’re offering you a _possibility_ ’ said Granger stepping forward, and Draco’s eyes moved to her.

Potter was too idealistic, too set in his ideas of good and bad, if his reputation for sticking to Expelliarmus was to be believed, whilst Weasley was not even worth considering, full of himself for no apparent reason and prone to anger. Granger was a different story, she was smart, and Draco could work with smart, really, couldn’t hope for anything better given the current circumstances.

‘I’m listening’

‘Y-you are?’ Potter fumbled with his words, clearly surprised, and Draco couldn’t understand if he’d expected complete rejection to his previous proposal or if he was bluffing. Next to Potter, Weasley fumbled uncomfortably, he clearly had been told to keep quiet on the matter, and Draco couldn’t help but be pleased by it.

‘I’m not an idiot, Potter’

‘So you’re not going to call us blood traitors and mudbloods?’ Weasley finally asked, anger making him clench his fists. He was smirking, believing he’d won, discredited him forever. Maybe he had, but they didn’t know him.

Draco clenched his jaw, reluctant to share his thoughts, the few things he’d allowed himself to process since he was marked, especially to the Golden Trio he’d hated for almost all of his life.

‘He never really believed it, let it go Ron’ Granger’s statement surprised him, but before he could reply with a snark remark about her Gryffindor heart to hide how close she was to truth, she continued. ‘He just repeated what his father said hoping for love and attention’

Draco was so shocked by her words, by how close to the truth they were, by how mean she sounded, and he hated himself for that fact that he couldn’t do anything more than look away and clench his jaw until his teeth hurt. He needed to control himself, so he went back to Occlumency, raising his walls and trying to stick to his plan to assess what odds Potter really had of winning.

‘Let’s hear it’ he said, and Granger moved to stand in front of the cot, looking down at him, hands on her hips.

It was almost familiar, the stubbornness in her eyes, the bush of thorns that was her hair, the way she worried her bottom lip. If he tried hard enough, Draco could almost imagine he was back at Hogwarts, when thing were simple and he didn’t have to wonder why his father keep making bad decisions, why he kept failing, why he stopped believing his father’s words and started questioning them instead.

‘I am… I have been wondering, about why it was so easy for You-Know-Who to take over the Ministry. Were there so many that still believed after the first war?’

Draco’s brow furrowed in confusion. Why was she asking that? What did she think she could understand with his answer? He debated briefly in his mind if he should be honest or not, and then he opted to be. He needed to build some goodwill, he needed to know what they were doing, if they could help him help his mother.

‘Despite what it looks like, not everyone is supporting the Dark Lord because of his shining personality. The culture about purebloods is… forever intertwined with the history of the Wizarding world and its relationship with muggles. It’s a reaction, and the Sacred Twenty Eight became the answer’

‘Care to explain?’ Granger asked, and she seemed sincerely interested.

‘The Sacred Twenty Eight? It’s what it says on the tin, Granger. The most ancient wizarding families that were considered still as pureblood when the Pureblood Dictionary was first published in the 1930s’

‘And you’re one?’

‘Obviously. Weasley is one of the Sacred Twenty Eight as well, so it’s Longbottom, Hannah Abbot, McMillain, Shacklebolt, Ollivander and Weasley’s mother since she’s a Prewett. The Potters would have been there too if Potter’s great grandfather hadn’t been so outspokenly pro-muggle during the time the Dictionary was being written. Your father’s uncle married a Black after all’ he added looking first at Weasley and then at Potter.

‘He did?’ curiosity dripped from Potter’s words, he was hungry for every bit of information about his family, and Draco filed that information away somewhat unhappily. As someone who suddenly found himself starving for information about his own family, he didn’t feel particularly inclined to use that very sentiment as leverage against someone else.

‘Yes, Potter, what did you think? That the gold in your Gringotts vault was made by the hard work of your parents? That’s generational wealth.’

‘We’re digressing’ Granger pointed out.

‘Agreed. Point being: I’m not a complete idiot, and I’ve… looked into the matter’

’Surprisingly’ it was Weasley that interrupted this time, always aggressive.

‘I wasn’t really looking forward to plan a murder’

Weasley was about to open his mouth again when Granger stopped him.

‘Let him speak!’

Even Draco was surprised by the anger in Granger’s words. There was something going on, but he decided to ignore it and continue, play Granger’s game and see what her offer would be.

‘I know this may sound… surprising, in light of recent events, but the Malfoy family was never so firm on the pureblood idea. I have halfblood ancestors, I have muggleborn ancestors, even muggles’

‘Muggles?!’ Weasley’s voice was so high pitched it made him and even Granger frown.

‘It was during the time of William D’Orange, one of my ancestors decided to take himself one or two degree closer to royalty’ he explained, not really wanting to get into the story of how a Malfoy had unsuccessfully tried to become a royal.

‘Wow’ said Potter adjusting his glasses on his nose, almost laughing.

‘The Malfoy have a thousand years history, we used to be a bigger family, but when my father was in his sixth year at Hogwarts a new strain of Dragon Pox killed my grandfather and almost half of the family. It was… hard, for my father, and my grandmother practically died of grief before he took his NEWTs. He never spoke about it, but it was very hard for him. He loved my mother though, and that helped him go on.’

‘No offence, but what has your parents love story to do with Hermione’s question?’ Potter asked.

‘I’m getting there. It’s relevant, I assure you. My father loves my mother, but even though the Malfoys are one of the Sacred Twenty Eights, the Blacks were… much more strict on pureblood issues, and after what happened with Sirius and Andromeda, Cygnus Black was not inclined to allow my mother to marry easily. Bellatrix didn’t marry a Lestrange because she liked him, she married him because the Lestrange are as hard on blood purity as the Blacks were’

‘What do you mean by hard? No muggleborns, no halfbloods?’ asked Granger, not really as interested as he thought she would be. It was not yet what she was looking for.

‘Yes, which… led to… inbreeding. Now, the only other Sacred Twenty Eight that was know to be as strict as the Black and Lestrange? The Gaunt’

‘That’s…’ Potter stammered, Granger’s eyes going wide for a moment before she caught herself, and Draco knew he got their attention.

‘Tom Riddle’s father’ he confirmed.

‘So you know, about his story, his true name?’ it was more a surprised statement than a question from Potter, but Draco answered nonetheless.

‘I know part of it. I heard… snippets, from Bellatrix since she’s been at the Manor and my father. Bellatrix in particular has been close to him for such a long time, I think he managed to charm her enough, to stroke her madness enough so to make her overlook the obviousness of his birth. Even if he was an illegitimate child, if the mother had been pureblood he would have been accepted by the Gaunt. She obviously wasn’t’

‘I really don’t understand what’s the point of this history lesson from a Malfoy’ huffed Weasley stomping around, earning another scolding look from Granger.

‘I’m not trying to justify my father. But to win my mother’s hand he did everything Bellatrix and my grandfather asked him to do. They took pureblood superiority to a whole other level and he did too, they followed the Dark Lord and he did too. I know that it might seem cruel, but the British Wizarding world is not unusual in this. In the United States, the MACUSA made marrying or seeing a muggle a criminal offence punishable by removal of your wand and even incarceration until 1962, with very few exceptions.’ they clearly missed that piece of information, and when his eyes moved back to Granger. Draco saw her blush the same way she had when Snape called her a know-it-all, she wasn’t as well versed in international wizarding history, so he decided to insist on the point, just to bother her, he couldn’t have her be too smug, he might have been in chains but he still had teeth.

‘If you had been born in the US in that period, Granger, you would have been taken from your parents, sent to Ilvermorny until you were eighteen and once back you would have found your parents had serious trouble remembering you, in addition to a wide variety of laws forbidding you from interacting with them.’ that seemed to hit her hard, in a way Draco had never intended to, so he moved forward, trying to go back to her question.

‘Wizards have always been weary of muggles and muggleborns, but the ideas about blood came later. For a long time, the Wizarding world and the muggle world were able to exist almost side by side, keeping an eye on each other easily as there were numerous overlaps, but the more muggleborns arrived, the more they started to change things. The Christmas holidays were never a thing in Hogwarts for the first 600 years of its history, students went home for the winter solstice to renew blood wards on their homes, then the muggle religious holiday became more popular and the holiday changed. The muggle world started to change faster and faster, new inventions that impressed the Wizarding world but also scared them, fearing that the muggles might find out about magic, only that now the threat wasn’t being burned at the stake but being dissected on an operating table. As you may have noticed, as a consequence of this, the Wizarding world started to effectively isolated itself at the start of the 1900s. It’s why there’s magic photography, an Hogwarts Express, but no electricity. That’s when blood purity started to become relevant, people started to look for what they considered traditions and practices lost in favour of muggle culture, and by doing so they gave more power than they probably intended to the Wizarding families that had been around for centuries, stroking ideas that some already had of superiority. From there the jump to blood purity was a shot one. Grindelwald did the rest, threatening the Statue of Secrecy and all of that. The Muggles and their wars didn’t help either and there were conscious efforts to push for muggleborns to be assimilate as much as possible so that they’d wouldn’t feel the need to bring back muggle ideals.’

‘So You-Know-Who had fertile ground to work on’ Granger agreed, worrying her bottom lips, clearly thinking about what he was saying. Draco had been reluctant to share what he had learned from his mother about pure blood ideas, but the information seemed to be exactly what Granger was looking for, so he kept going.

‘He did. The defence of traditions became associate with the Sacred Twenty Eight, so blood purity became a family issue as a consequence, and it was an issue backed by families with lots of wealth at their disposal. You need money to get into the Ministry after all, ideology is never enough. It’s, I suppose, obvious in hindsight that the Dark Lord doesn’t particularly care, in the sense that he does despise muggles and muggleborns, but also to an extent purebloods, for what happened with his mother and the Gaunt, at least I think’

‘Did he ever said anything about it?’ asked Potter, anxiously.

’No, no. I know this because my mother was very nervous after my father was arrested and tried to explain all of this to me. She’s been in the thick of it for a long time, she’s heard my father speak about it, my grandparents, her sister, and even Snape. She was trying to give me as much context as possible, she was trying… not to make me hate my father’ the word left his lips before he could stop them, and suddenly he felt Granger’s eyes on him, her gaze sharp like a knife, cutting him open to see what was going on inside.

He hated it, it made him feel uncomfortable, weak, exposed.

‘Did it worked?’ she asked.

‘I’m not going to dignify that with a response’ he said, and her eyes narrowed further.

Draco tried to not shiver, not to look intimidated and uncomfortable. But he’d given her exactly what she had been looking for.

* * *

Harry watched in awe as Hermione and Malfoy sparred with words, trying to reach a common ground on which they could work on. He didn’t know why Hermione had chosen that question on pureblood history, if she’d been really curious, if she wanted to understand better Malfoy’s point of view or if she simply wanted to remind them about how not everyone followed Voldemort blindly for his ideals. Harry didn’t know what sacred him more, but somehow the people who followed Voldemort for the money despite everything seemed scarier and more rotten inside than the Death Eaters that believed in blood superiority with every bone in their body.

‘Why did you warn us at the Quidditch World Cup, when the Death Eater first attacked?’ Hermione suddenly asked, hands back on her hips. She was the one smirking after Malfoy had refused to share his thoughts about his father.

‘Honestly Granger, your Gryffindor willingness to see good in everyone is pathetic. Some people just want to watch the world burn’

‘And you consider yourself one of those people?’

‘What of it?’

Hermione’s eyes seemed to pierce right through him, and even Harry almost shivered. Sometimes he forgot how scary she could be, that she’d locked Rita Skeeter in a jar for almost a year.

‘I don’t think you are one of those. In fact, Malfoy, I think you very much dislike fires that you cannot control.’

‘Even if I were to acknowledge that, it still doesn’t make me a good person’

‘I’m not looking for a good person, rest assured’

‘Shocking’ Malfoy said, sneering, almost daring her, and Hermione seemed to accept the challenge.

‘Let’s review the situation, shall we. You were being tortured to death by You-Know-Who, who set up shop at your house. I say we can all agree that there were extenuating circumstances for you taking the Dark Mark, daddy dearest promising you the world would be at your feet and then throwing you to the wolves’

‘ _Do not_ ’ Malfoy hissed, his eyes filling with anger at the mention of his father, but Hermione just kept going.

‘So extenuating circumstances it is. Don’t be embarrassed, Malfoy. We’ve all been lied to and let down by someone we trusted. Harry is still processing all the lies Dumbledore told him, so you’re not alone’

Harry flinched at that. He thought he’d been good at hiding it, but obviously Hermione had seen and tried to give him space. It was the first time he saw a flicker of what she was feeling inside, the anger she, too, shared about being lied and deceived. She always pushed everything down for his sake, and Harry couldn’t help but feel extremely guilty about it.

‘I’m not processing anything’ Malfoy said clenching his jaw, looking away.

‘You sure about that?’ Hermione insisted, her eyes on Malfoy’s right hand, where he was struggling against the restraint.

‘Maybe I’ll just say _his_ name and call the Snatchers on us’ he snapped and Hermione huffed a laugh, not scared at all.

‘Be my guest, your mother will die if they find out you’re alive and she lied. We both know that, so let’s stop with the empty threats’

‘Anything else?’

‘Oh, we won’t just let you go your merry way, so don’t bother ask’

‘Got attached to me, Granger? Do you have a nurse complex or something?’

‘No, I’m just stating the obvious. You’re bright Malfoy, _very_ bright. No one has ever been able to get around the wards that protect Hogwarts but you. If I am the brightest witch of our age, what does that make you? Given the fact that as far as marks are concerned you were either right behind me or we ended up in a tie’

‘What is going on?’ Ron asked, clearly confused, eyes darting back and forth between Hermione and Malfoy. ‘Who’s winning?’

Harry shushed him, if he lost even a word of what they were saying he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to understand the conversation anymore.

‘So’ Hermione continued ‘we both know that you cannot go back. You’re also still weak, so going alone is not a good choice for you either at the moment, but even if you were stronger, you could never get your mother out on your own. As far as everyone knows you’re dead, you have no one to turn to and the only person who maybe could help you, let’s say like Snape, is decidedly out of reach. But you are here. With us. After having lived for months in close contact with You-Know-Who. You probably know how everything works down to when the lowest Snatcher takes a bathroom break because you’re a control freak’

‘Oh, look who’s preaching’ Malfoy said, almost joking, and Harry had to suppress a smile.

Ron shuffled uncomfortably from one foot to the other next to him.

‘ _And_ , you’re here with the one person who can help you solve all of your problems. Even if you hate him since he didn’t laugh at your mean jokes and didn’t shake your hand when you were eleven’

Malfoy scoffed looking at him, and Harry suddenly felt extremely self conscious. Hermione and Malfoy were talking about things he’d barely considered, and it probably was the first time in seven years that he realised just _how_ smart both of them were behind the mean words they had thrown at each other during the years, how they were standing right in front of him and yet playing a game he could barely understand.

‘Potter may be the dagger, Granger, but if he ends up slitting the right throat it’s because of you. So let’s not get ahead of ourselves.’

Hermione seemed disturbed by that more than Harry was, even though he could see it was the truth. He would have not survived his first year if it wasn’t for Hermione. Malfoy knew those words would hit her had, and he smirked.

‘Well, now that all of it is out of the way, shall we begin?’ Hermione asked taking back control, crossing her arms, ignoring his words.

Malfoy let out a sigh, closing his eyes for a second before looking back at Hermione. His one free hand was still clutched around the old battered copy of the Prophet, Narcissa seemed almost to look up at him from her picture.

‘So what’s in it for me if I, hypothetically, was to help you?’

Harry blinked, trying to process the words that had just been spoken to him.

‘I’m… not sure’ he stuttered.

‘Well, that’s compelling’ sighted Malfoy, he seemed sincerely disappointed by his answer, his eyes assessing him until they turned back to Hermione when she spoke.

‘We will help you, and your mother, make sure the Order knows you’re working with us’

‘Don’t be stupid Granger, the less people know my mother and Snape’s alliances, if the latter even is true, the better it is for everyone. The Dark Lord is an incredibly skilled Legilimens’

‘I suppose it’s just luck that you’re extremely good at Occlumency’

There was silence at that and Malfoy looked extremely displeased at having being caught. Hermione had mentioned the Occlumency to them after she’d come out of the tent to announce that he was awake, and Harry had been surprised. That explained why he’d changed so much, why he was nothing like the smug brat he remembered from his first five years at Hogwarts, but not even the hunted boy he remembered with guilt from sixth year.

‘Yes, I noticed’ Hermione answering a question that Malfoy hadn’t even asked out loud ‘was it Snape? Who thought you? Does it run in the family? I suppose it does if your mother’s doing it too. Harry was briefly trained by Snape as well’

‘How could I learn anything from Snape, he was brutal’ Harry mumbled to himself, but Malfoy clearly heard him and huffed a laugh, looking at him with an expression that was painfully familiar. Mocking.

‘Potter, you stupid idiot. You think the Dark Lord will just _gently_ enter your mind? Knock three times and ask permission?’

‘What _does_ he do?’ Hermione asked and Malfoy licked his lips, clearly unhappy about having being cornered into giving information he wasn’t ready to trade or leverage just yet.

It suddenly seemed clear to Harry that Malfoy had suffered in the last couple of years almost as much as everyone else had, and it was difficult and strange to come to terms with that. He’d been thrown into the Death Eaters and Voldemort’s deadly games as much as they had been, and he’d had to live and survive _with_ Voldemort in his home for the past few months. When he realised that, Harry felt a bit slow and stupid, because that was what Hermione was getting at: he had been tortured _by_ _Voldemort_ and he’d survived, and Voldemort hadn’t seem to notice that two out of three Malfoys were not as loyal as he thought them to be. It took skill to survive, Harry knew that, because he himself had luck, some skill, and Hermione and Ron at his side. Malfoy had been alone with his mother against a crazy Aunt and the most powerful dark wizard of the century. That made Malfoy an invaluable asset in the war, and if they could contact the Order maybe they could give them some information, maybe… but he had to ask Hermione. It was dangerous to try and contact anyone.

Malfoy took his time, looking anywhere but at them, and then he finally spoke. Unlike Hermione, Harry couldn’t really see when he was Occluding and when he wasn’t, it made him a bit nervous, just like he could sense it made Ron nervous too, but he guessed he was at the moment given the even tone of his voice.

‘He’s always in your mind, if you’re close enough. He will enter a room and briefly look at your thoughts, nothing too deep, but enough to know what you’re feeling, what you’re thinking at the moment.’

Harry felt hypnotised by Malfoy’s words, it was like he was describing a part of what he had experienced and felt sometimes in the weird dreams he kept having of late, the connection that seemed to exist between him and Voldemort, and the feelings he often seemed to perceive that certainly couldn’t belong the either of them.

‘I’m not trying to brag, but Occluding is a dangerous move. If he sees a wall, he will be suspicious, he will want to tear it down. It’s more about pushing to the forefront what will not make him suspect anything, what will please him. Sometimes is loyalty, sometimes is fear, or a bit of both’

‘Well, that’s… actually good information, I think this might work’ Harry said nodding, suddenly helpful, looking at Malfoy and then at Hermione. She nodded too.

‘Do not let it get to your head, I’ll be watching you’ Ron suddenly jumped in, finger pointed at Malfoy who laughed at him.

‘Am I supposed to be afraid of _you_ , Weasley? If I am to be afraid of someone, that would definitely be Granger. She came up with Dumbledore’s Army, performed an advanced charm to forge those coins you used and almost disfigured the girl who snitched on you. Not to mention this rumour I’ve heard of her being the reason Skeeter disappeared after the Tournament. Honestly, if you weren’t a Gryffindor and Potter’s friend people would not overlook you the way they did. They would also judge your actions in a completely different light’ he said with a smirk that angered Ron.

Harry, surprisingly, found himself pleased that at least Malfoy recognised how great Hermione was, but that was quickly overshadowed by the shocked that overtook him when Hermione answered his words with a smirk of her own. It made her feel as if he didn’t know her as well as he thought he did. It made him feel as if he hadn’t understood a single thing of what had happened. Was that a truce? The sign of an alliance between Hermione and Malfoy?

‘Is that a compliment, Malfoy?’ Hermione asked raising an eyebrow.

‘I don’t work with idiots’ he said shrugging, as if it was obvious. Hermione seemed skeptical of his answer.

‘So what are Crabbe and Goyle?’

‘People I kept around to appease my father. Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson. If I help you, they’re part of my deal too’ Malfoy replied, suddenly serious, but before Hermione could agree or debate, Ron jumped in again.

‘It’s just more pureblood Death Eaters!’ he said trough gritted teeth, and Harry tried to stop him with a hand on his shoulder whilst Malfoy looked at them sincerely confused, almost troubled by those words.

’Theo is not… Theodore Nott is not a Death Eater, his father? Yes, but not him, and he hates his father since, you know, he literally killed his mother and made it look like an accident. Blaise is not even one of the Sacred Twenty Eight, his father wasn’t British and died while experimenting with potions, not to mention his mother is the reason six former Death Eaters are dead since she marries them and then they suddenly die of some illness. I know Pansy is mean, but even if she’s one of the Sacred Twenty Eight her father’s been thrown out of the Death Eater circles after the first war because Pansy’s mother is from South Korea and decidedly not British, I assure you, they’re not going to fight on their side’

Malfoy seemed eager to make a case for his friends and Harry was surprised to see this side of him. It was true that he’d seen Malfoy more and more with Zabini, Nott and Parkinson as the years went on, and even during sixth year, Parkinson had been one of the few he’d accepted some comfort from before completely withdrawing from everything and everyone, the memory of their fight on the Hogwarts Express making his nose throb faintly with the memory of pain. He’d been blinded by grief and rage then, and he’d found an easy target in Malfoy, but if Harry had learned anything from Dumbledore’s death was that people were complicated, not everything was as straightforward as he thought, not even Malfoy becoming a Death Eater.

‘What did my mother gave you in exchange for me? I don’t believe she came here empty handed’ Malfoy suddenly asked, his eyes calculating, curious.

Harry looked at Hermione and nodded. She too the bag Narcissa had left them and showed Malfoy the cup without saying anything about it, what it really was. He looked at them in shock, an expression Harry had never seen on his face before.

‘Are you kidding me?’ he almost shouted, and Harry flinched.

‘No?’ he said, not even knowing what to say without talking about Horcruxes.

‘A stupid… what even is _that_? An ugly mug for beer? Are you sure she didn’t lose her mind? Did she had flowers in her hair and was barefoot by chance?’ Malfoy seemed almost to be panicking, and Harry couldn’t blame him. Narcissa coming to them had been… weird to process.

‘It’s…’ said Hermione before stopping, evaluating what could she say.

Malfoy made to stand up but before Ron could rush in front of Hermione, he was yanked back to the cot by the restraint.

‘It’s a _stupid_ _cup_!’ Malfoy yelled, and Harry saw the exact moment anger made Hermione dangerous.

‘It’s not _just_ a cup’ said Hermione gritting her teeth.

‘It’s not just a cup’ Malfoy repeated mocking her.

‘This is going to be a disaster’ muttered Harry massaging his temples, feeling the beginning of an headache making his head throb.


	4. The Tale

‘Where’s my wand?’ was the first thing Draco asked when Potter and Weasley left the tent to start a fire outside and check the perimeter.

‘I have it. Don’t worry about it’ Granger dismissed his words with a shrug and took a seat on the cot next to him, a quick moment of her wrist dissolving the spell that kept him chained.

Draco flinched involuntarily when she reached for him, but her hands were firm on his forearm, her eyes scanning the scar methodically. She had done a good job, but there was still a slight tremor in his hands left by the cruciato that seemed to bother her as much as it bothered him.

‘I won’t do anything, I’m not _that_ stupid. I just need a minute to fix my hands, I won’t be of much help otherwise’ he said, speaking more softly than he’d intended.

Granger raised her head to look up at him, leaving Draco briefly disoriented by their closeness and the discovery that her eyes were speckled with gold under the warm light of the tent.

‘You know the spell? I’ve looked for it _everywhere_ but I couldn’t find it in any of my books’ she said sounding as eager for knowledge as he remembered her to be in school, not even a war had been able to change that.

‘My mother taught it to me, it’s usually in more advanced medical texts’ he said extending his hand, waiting for her to allow him at least that.

‘Is your mother talented in healing?’ she asked standing up and retrieving his wand form a small bag that clearly had an undetectable expansion charm, she handed it to him with a look in her eyes that was meant as a warning, her own wand secured in her hand.

Draco didn’t waste time, he ignored her while she sat back down next to him, leaning even closer while she watched him move the wand up and down his arm, relaxing and healing muscles and nerves.

‘I don’t know. Maybe. the Blacks were wealthy, she was taught that knowledge is important, but she was never expected to work’

‘That’s a shame’

He hummed in agreement and then they stood in silence until he was finished. He thought she would leave the moment he handed over his wand, instead she remained on the cot next to him, looking down at her hands, seemingly comparing their wands. It looked like she was trying to think about something, and Draco let the silence settle between them, allowing himself to look at her hands while paying attention for the first time to the sounds of the nature that surrounded them, to the warmth of someone that wasn’t his mother being so close to him and not trying to harm him. He noticed there were small cuts on her fingers, calluses on her palms that he had not seen on Potter or Weasley’s hands. They were the same calluses he’d had on his own hands when he brewed too much, although he’d never had as many cuts, he’d always better at preparing ingredients than her. It was clear that she was doing the bulk of the work, and somehow that made him angry. She needed to be sharp for this to work, Potter and Weasley clearly couldn’t function without her, but that didn’t mean they had to overburden her with everything.

‘Potter and Weasley have hands too, they can do some work around here as well’

Granger let out a deep sigh, her shoulder slouching slightly and her jaw clenching. It was something that angered her as well, and Draco was surprised by the display of sincerity, by that fact that it was in front of him, of all people, that she was admitting she hated something about Potter and Weasley. The fact that it didn’t give him any satisfaction highlighted just how dire the situation was.

‘We have so few supplies, I cannot even make room for a single mistake with the potions, or the wards’

She even did the wards? Draco wondered _what_ exactly were Potter and Weasley doing all day.

‘Probably should have mentioned how much of a dead weight they are when you laid out your terms’

‘They’re not deadweights!’ she snapped back, raising her head to look at him and almost ready to hex him.

‘What are they, then?’ he simply asked.

Granger was silent, she didn’t seem to have an answer for that. She just pushed her lips in a thin line, eyes full of fury.

Draco let it go.

‘I can make the potions, and I can gather ingredients for them. I can do some small wandless detecting spells if you allow me to walk around a bit’

She seemed almost relieved by that. Another weird sight, Hermione Granger relieved by his words, a first, truly. Had she been about to ask him? Had he saved her from the embarrassment of asking for his help?

Fucking Gryffindors.

‘ _Fine_ ’ she muttered.

‘Fine’ he repeated, a smirk on his face.

* * *

It was surprising how easy it was for him to work alongside her.

Draco wondered if Granger thought about it too, the way in which they easily developed a routine, split tasks, and seemed to complement each other.

It was also _extremely_ disturbing. They’d been on opposite sides for too long. Yet, there he was, brewing potions and distilling essence of Dittany for the Golden Trio, actively aiding their efforts against the Dark Lord. There was to be no plausible deniability for him, not anymore. His mother had exchanged his life for a cup, _a stupid cup_ , entrusting him to their helpless enemies, and he had to make the best of it for her sake.

Observing the way the Golden Trio worked together on a daily basis was fascinating, in a way. Granger was doing most of the work, of course, but what was striking was the discovery that there was something wrong with the way both Potter and Granger treated Weasley. Something had happened, and Draco tried to be smug about it as he was in school, but he only found himself worried. He needed them alive and working smoothly, their chances to live whilst the Dark Lord wanted them dead were next to zero as things were and he didn’t need their petty arguments to lower them further. Granger was, unfortunately, right: he couldn’t do anything alone and he couldn’t go back, he was stuck with them.

Even with close observation, Draco couldn’t understand what their dynamic was exactly, _how_ had they been able to survive and achieve as much as they apparently had through the years. Potter was lost in thought half of time, he was sentimental and it made him sloppy in his strategy, he had seen Granger trying to dissuade him from doing something rushed more than once after they heard the news through the radio with Potterwatch. Weasley seemed to be mostly a crutch for Potter, someone he complained to after being stopped by Granger from going on suicide runs, Draco had seen them talk about nonsense and Quidditch almost everyday whilst Granger was not far, buried in her books, a constant frown of anxiety on her face.

Back at Hogwarts, Draco had often joked about Granger being the head of the Trio, but now that he had looked at them closely, he _honestly_ couldn’t understand how she could stand it. Now that their academic rivalry was put aside, his father’s words of hate had turned to ash, Draco could admit freely that she was one of, if not _the_ brightest witch he’d ever met. Yet, there she was, stretching herself thin like a house elf, tiptoeing around Weasley and Potter’s moods, planning supply missions, keeping inventory of what they had, expanding her knowledge of spells and charms, researching whatever it was she obsessively looked for, and worrying and fixing all the things Potter and Weasley didn’t even seemed to think about.

Didn’t she have _any_ self respect? If it had been himself, Pansy, Blaise and Theo hiding in the woods, Draco was sure they would have split tasks more equally. Theo was good at wards after a lifetime trying to hide from his father, he would handled the potions, Blaise the food supply, Pansy would have charted their routes and made them travel by night by following the starts given how good she was at Astrology. The thought alone sent a wave of pain through him, anxiety suddenly rising. He hadn’t heard anything about them since leaving Hogwarts with Snape. He’d been struck in Malfoy Manor after that, and the few times he’d seen Nott Senior it had been impossible to ask after Theo. He knew they hadn’t been marked, he would have seen them otherwise, and that was the only thing that eased his pain. He wondered if they hated him for lying to them, for withdrawing in sixth year, for not telling them about the mark and then basically starting a war even if he’d been incapable of killing Dumbledore. More importantly, he hoped they had escaped early on, somewhere safe. In his dreams, they always left while everyone was at Dumbledore’s funeral, taken by Blaise’s mother to Italy, or maybe even father, to South Korea and to Pansy’s grandparents, where they were now eating the kimchi pancakes Pansy always complained about missing while at Hogwarts.

Before he could drown in fear and anxiety, Draco closed all of those thoughts neatly behind thick walls, trying to focus once more on what was in front of him, the problems with the Golden Trio and his own situation. Whilst he had doubted Granger’s account of what had happened at first, he _did_ have some confused memories of his mother doing something to his arm, more pain after the cruciato. She had been the one to carve the mark out, she really left him with them, risked everything for it, and Draco couldn’t understand why. Did she believed in Potter so much? How had she calculated the odds? Or had she expected Snape’s patronus to lead her to her long lost sister and the Order? He didn’t know, and he couldn’t determine the odds himself because he was cut off from whatever Potter was planning, which was fair, he had to admit begrudgingly. If they’d told him right away, he would have considered them even more foolish than he already thought them to be and risked leaving on his own.

Mostly, Draco spent his mornings and sometimes his nights looking for ingredients in the forest, Granger never too far from him, a book always in her hands. Now that he had freed her from the obligation to brew, she was always reading, clearly researching something from the library of books she had in that small purse of hers. That purse seemed ridiculous until Draco had been so surprised at how complete her portable potions set up was that he’d let a sincere compliment slip from his lips, almost making her blush. She had muttered an ‘ _of course_ ’ and promptly left the tent, making him huff a laugh. She clearly had been prepared for being on the run thoroughly, and Draco appreciated her foresight. It was probably what had save the three of them after the Ministry had fallen.

After another couple of days of this routine, Draco had almost convinced himself that he could it, and maybe do it well: work in silence on the potions whilst also working to rebuild his Occlumency in full. Maybe he could even start to believe that their utopian ideas of hope and good would lead to a future in which he wouldn’t be constantly suffocated by fear and regret.

_Almost_.

Two days after that thought first appeared in his head, they were walking to a new location for their camp, Granger at the front with a map in hand, Potter in the middle lost in thoughts and Weasley last, keeping an eye on him while he followed the detection spells to plants, flowers and small animals he could use to brew. Every once in a while, when they took a break to rest, Granger would come over to look at what he’d gather, almost making him stutter and blush with her eagerness to understand how much he knew. She was sincerely surprised to discover he could brew by memory the most common potions and cast more than one spell without a wand. He wasn’t used to receive praise despite what people said about him, and it was weird for both of them, he could tell, how relaxed and in sync they both seemed to be when they talked, as long as it wasn’t about the war or themselves, otherwise he would shut down with Occlumency, which _she_ hated, or she would avoid his questions altogether and simply leave, which _he_ hated.

However, that seemed to anger Weasley, with whom Granger was careful never to be alone with, clearly trying to avoid him for some reason Draco couldn’t even fathom. For years he’d thought Granger would be into Potter, he was not as smart as her but he could hold a conversation. Yet, for the life of him, Draco still wasn’t able to understand why would she fancy Weasley instead. They had nothing in common, and his personality seemed to suffocate hers. He had an inferiority complex and she wanted to fly as high as she could just for the pleasure of testing her own boundaries rather than for the glory, so they couldn’t coexist, one them would have had to give in. Maybe the ‘opposite attracts’ saying was correct, but for Draco it just seemed like an ill-made match, and in the aftermath of whatever had happened, he certainly hated that he ended up as an easy target for Weasley to relieve his tension.

At the beginning, it was just something Weasley muttered to himself, so low Draco couldn’t understand, but when a complaint about the long trek to the new campsite became a complaint about Draco’s own loyalty, he couldn’t help himself and replied to him with sarcasm.

‘I’m not on your side, Weasley, relax, I’m on _my_ side, so I hope that helps clarify the issue in that small brain of yours’

‘Thank you for remind us you have no morals, Malfoy’ Potter chimed in, suddenly present, and Draco clenched his jaw.

Granger raised her head form the map and looked back to them, clearly concerned over the argument, already smelling the impending disaster as much as Draco did, and equally incapable to put a stop to it.

‘It’s easy to make the right choice when everyone is on your side, when everything you do is always justified as good and necessary. Not everyone gets that luxury’ he said, hate dripping from his words.

‘Have you missed the reality of our situation?’ Potter snapped at him, stopping and fully turning towards him, and Draco felt rage burn his throat.

‘I have not. I’d say I am even more aware than you are. But forgive me for criticising your choices. If the Order still has some supporters it’s not thanks to you, it’s because of whoever runs that stupid Potterwatch station and everyone else who chose to fight despite the face of this resistance being a seventeen year old who’s only achievement is not being dead’

‘How dare you?’ Weasley shouted, pushing him, suddenly standing between him and Potter, and Draco pushed back.

‘How _dare_ I? You think you’ll kill the Dark Lord and then peace and good will be restored? Unicorns in the streets? You’re gonna have to deal with people who made bad choices and then made good ones, you’ll have to deal with ex Death Eaters who won’t change their way, you’ll have to deal with people who choose to be silent. Not everything is black and white!’

‘Here you go, trying to justify yourself again!’ screamed Weasley, throwing his arms around in disbelief and rage burned inside Draco, a fire rising and rising, threatening to consume him whole.

‘You think everyone liked you and hated me just like you did? Are you and Potter that full of yourselves? It’s a miracle people liked you outside of Gryffindor. Do you understand how you came across? Everyone was always bending the rules for you, always giving you things you shouldn’t have been allowed to take. It was the Quidditch role in first year but also all the times points were assigned at random at your house because you breathed in Dumbledore’s direction, not to mention the super forbidden Time-Turner that they gave to a thirteen years old girl so she could burn out on too much homework. For many kids the stupid house cup was important. I’m sure Lovegood hasn’t mentioned how the Ravenclaws had one of the biggest grudges against you beside Slytherin, as you came across as a dumb idiots who got points for nothing.’

‘That’s not… true! It’s not my fault you’re a prejudiced asshole who cannot stand other people being better than him!’ Potter almost screamed, cheeks red, and Draco completely lost his temper, incapable to shut himself down even with Occlumency.

‘Don’t you _dare_ lecture me on prejudice! What did you know of the Hogwarts houses before you came to the school? _Nothing_! Yet Weasley tells you all Slytherins are evils and suddenly that’s an indisputable truth around which you pin your whole belief system! You think all Death Eaters are Slytherin? Are you still a fucking child who cannot grasp the countless ways people behave even in the middle of a war? Do you seriously still think everyone is either completely evil or only good? I was angry at you for many reasons, Potter, my father’s hate of you being the chief one, but the fact that it was always one scale yet two measures for everything you three fools did was _infuriating_! What do you think would have happened if you’d decided to shred someone else with that Sectumsempra? You’re the _Choosen One_ yet you’re so stupid you don’t even bother to find out what a spell does before shouting it at someone, and then you have the audacity to pretend to archive moral superiority by just using expelliarmus in battle! You’re so full of shit, Potter!’

‘ _Do_ _not_! You don’t know…’ Potter stammered, trying to defend himself, but Draco pushed further, incapable to let it go and walk away.

‘What?! What do you think I don’t know, Potter? Do you think I don’t know what would have happened if it had been someone else? Did you even ever asked yourself what would have happened if Snape hadn’t been there? I would have bled on the floor to death and then what? Would Dumbledore have lied to my mother, telling her I had an “accident” so that you could keep strolling around undisturbed? No one would have questioned you, everyone would have glorified you even more, Saint Potter killing evil Draco Malfoy! But what if it had been someone else? What do you think they would have told the world? That they were evil so it would be justified and kept your reputation as a saint intact? Did you know they didn’t even take me to the infirmary? Snape healed me on the floor and then just told me to go back to my room, the scars still burning on my chest, he seemed bothered even by the fact that he had to give a blood replenishing potion.’

‘But I was _right_! You were a Death Eater! And… and you’ve always been mean!’ Potter stammered moving past Weasley, who kept trying to get between them, directly in front of him.

Anger was making Draco’s hands shake, wishing he still had his wand. It was three against one, and he didn’t have his wand. If he called for it, would it come from Granger’s purse? For a split second he was back at the Manor, the Dark Lord, Bellatrix and Dolohov advancing towards him, behaving as if nothing was happening until the first cruciato would erupt for someone’s wand. Draco took a step back, trying to push away the memory and the anger, the anxiety, rather unsuccessfully. No one could help him, he was alone, his mother wouldn’t come to him afterwards forcing potions down his throat, she wouldn’t even know he was dead if they killed him. No one would know, he would die alone in the woods, ending up as a footnote in the list of Potter’s numerous achievements, he would be just another evil person who needed to die for goodness to be restored. Not that Draco thought highly of himself, despite Weasley claims he wasn’t trying to justify his actions, he knew he was beyond saving and beyond compassion and empathy, but he just wanted his family to be safe.

He felt Granger’s eyes on him, and suddenly she was moving towards Potter, who was shaking as well, his hand twitching, almost reaching for his own wand, a storm in his his eye as if he wasn’t even sure of the words he was shouting, of what he was saying.

‘So what if I was?! I was angry! I was mean! What about it?! It doesn’t make me a fucking murder! It doesn’t mean I deserve to die!’ Draco screamed, and he hated how broken his own voice sounded on that last word.

Weasley was about to chime in as well, but Draco wouldn’t let him. He felt his heart speed up, and a pathetic need to justify himself even if he knew it was a worthless endeavour. They were going to kill him. Crucio him. Would they? That was what always happened.

‘You should just shut up, Weasley! You never had to make a single difficult choice in your life! I would not let my mother die or be tortured, even if it meant being marked! What do you know about that? What have you ever done but crying and complaining about it and then wait for Granger to fix your mess?’

‘You’re the one who did that! You were always screaming for your father!’ Weasley was almost about to punch him, but surprisingly Potter held him back.

Draco was angry, _desperate_. He felt stupid for even thinking he could do this, that he could just stroll along with the Golden Trio and believe that goodness would just save his mother. That was not how the world worked, not for him. He’d never had that luxury, swords didn’t appear for him when he was in trouble. When the never-ending nightmare he was stuck in started, no one came for him telling him he was making all the wrong choices, no said anything at all, and he’d barely managed to hold on to his mother. There was nothing he despised more than their hypocrisy, their belief that they were the absolute good and did nothing wrong ever, as if people like Moody and Sirius Black had never used dark magic in their life. If they were this stupid, there was no chance for a future. Time would become a flat circle and everything would happen again. He would never be free.

‘I… I cannot call for a heard of brothers if I’m in trouble’ he found himself saying, he was shaking, trying to push the tears back while raising his Occlumency walls, but he was feeling too much all at once, overwhelmed and angry, painful memories muddling his mind and skin itching just at the thought of the threat of a cruciato.

‘I could not go to Dumbledore because he was _always_ on your side, obviously biased, and he ignored every other student in such a dereliction of duty I’m actually shocked he wasn’t removed as a Headmaster for that! I cannot ask Theo for help because his father is a fucking maniac who will crucio him if he gives him even a hint of trouble, I cannot let Blaise get in trouble with his stepfather either, or Pansy because otherwise her grandfather will marry her off to a brute thirty years her senior. Do you know how hard it is? To know that if we break even the smallest rule we will be punished as severely as possible but if you crash a car almost into the walls of the castle you just get a slap on the wrist and that’s it? I know it must have been funny for you to witness, but being turned into a ferret and slammed against rocks and into other’s people pants wasn’t great, it was fucking _terrifying_ , it broke my shoulder, but no one said anything! Everyone was worried about Saint Potter not dying, but you couldn’t even save yourself when you were on the brink of death because it required you to think about it and do research! You two have actually behaved like the privileged idiots who had everything handed to them you always accused me to be. I flew as well as you did in first year Potter, but you got to play because Dumbledore clearly had a preference for you and that’s how McGonagall got him to agree. If any other House had proposed such a thing it wouldn’t have never been approved! Slytherin actually prides itself with academic achievements and hard work as much as Ravenclaw! I could leave you here and walk away and I could still somehow make it, but if you two were without Granger you could barely start a fire, the only good thing you’ve ever done is listening to her!’

Draco stomped away, anger and shame still burning inside him. He wanted to leave, he wanted to go as far way from them as possible, never see them again, and then try to find a way to save his mother without them. He had some very distant relatives in France, he was almost certain. He couldn’t remember their names, he’d never even met them, but maybe he could find them, maybe they would let him stay and rest while he figured out how to get his mother to safety. He started to shake before his thoughts even turned back to the Manor, to Bellatrix and the Dark Lord and all the death and pain that now dripped form his home’s walls, forever hunting it. They’d taken everything from him, his pride, his family, his independence, and even his past, every memory of Malfoy Manor forever tarnished with the knowledge of what had happened and what was still happening in those rooms.

‘Malfoy!’

Granger’s voice was suddenly right behind him. When she put her hand on his arm to stop him, panic made him release an involuntary burst of magic that threw her on the ground. At that, Draco grasped, shocked, looking in mild horror at where Granger was on the ground massaging her back. He hadn’t lost control of his magic since he was five years old, after his father gave him a toy wand. Was he losing control so easily? Had he lost all his ability to occlude and control himself? Even just asking that question made him panic even more.

Draco hated it probably more than anyone, his outbursts of rage, how when he was in trouble all he could think to say was to call for a father who always seemed disappointed in him. Learning Occlumency had been a relief, a way for him to finally change and be perceived as he wanted to be, calm, collected, secure with his words and without falling into the kind of fear, anger and shame that made him call for his father. And now he was failing at that too, just like he had failed at everything in his life.

He didn’t know when he ended up on the ground, head in his hands, struggling to breathe, but suddenly Granger was near him again, and all he could see for a moment was Bellatrix trying to hurt him.

‘Don’t touch me, don’t…’ he pleaded, his hands shaking.

‘It’s alright, it’s… it’s me, Hermione Granger’ she said moving towards him, slower this time, as if he was a wild animal that could bite her.

Her hand was suddenly over his and Draco couldn’t breathe while she guided it over her hearth. Was this a set up? Was she trying to create the perfect excuse for Potter or Weasley to kill him? He tried to jerk his hand away but she kept in hers.

‘Breathe with me, in and out. Deep breaths’ she said, forcing him to feel the way she breathed.

It seemed stupid, yet it slowly worked, his breath synchronising with the way her chest rose and fell under his palm. She was warm while he felt ice deep in his bones, even colder than the snow underneath him. He wondered why did she followed him, why was she trying to calm him down. Did they need him for something? Maybe a dangerous mission for which they needed a distraction, someone they could sacrifice? Didn’t she agree with Potter and Weasley?

Her eyes caught his, and she seemed to read in them all of those questions, a small smile tugging at her lips.

‘You have a wand with a unicorn hair core, correct?’

Draco nodded, confused.

‘It’s _extremely_ hard to perform dark magic with a unicorn hair core’ she said, and Draco almost laughed.

Of course she explained it to herself like that, rationally, _academically_.

‘Not afraid of my mudblood germs?’ she asked after a while, after his breath was back to normal, and Draco was perplexed by her behaviour once more, at the fact that she was trying to joke with him about something that had been the main reason for their hate of each other.

‘That was… a mistake, I’m sorry’ he muttered.

‘I’m sorry, what was that?’ she asked, a smile on her lips, almost a smirk of victory, and Draco distractedly realised she still had his hand in hers.

‘I was repeating what my father said… it wasn’t… right… the Dark Lord isn’t a pureblood, he just latched to pureblood beliefs because he needed backers with money. Not that what purebloods believe it’s right… that is’ he said looking anywhere but at her.

‘Are you admitting your father is gullible and stupid?’ she asked, barely suppressing a laugh, and Draco couldn’t help it. His lips slowly curving upwards, the phantom of a smile.

‘Given the fact that one parent is the reason I ended up with a mark on my arm and the other left me with you lot, I think we can both agree none of them seems to be particularly bright, or they just plainly lost their minds’

‘So they’re idiots’ Granger said with a smirk.

‘Do not insult my parents’ he warned her, but there was no bite to his words.

‘You just insulted them!’

‘They’re _my_ parents’

‘Fair enough’

She let go of his hand, as if finally realising she had held on to it as long as she had. She seemed awkward when she stood up, and he couldn’t blame her. It was weird, what just happened.

What _did_ just happen? Was that a truce? An offering of peace? He didn’t know.

‘Let’s go’ Granger said starting to walk away, and he followed her.

Potter and Weasley seemed to be about to say something when they came back, but Granger shushed them with one her looks. They continued the walk to the new campsite in silence, and once the tent was up, Draco slipped inside and brewed almost all night refusing to look up, not speaking to anyone.

* * *

It had been unpredictable and destabilising the way she and Malfoy seemed to complement each other when they worked together. It had been easy to divide tasks, to establish a routine, and Hermione had never felt something like that before… the relief that came with the certainty that she could share her burdens, her tasks, without fearing that he would mess up something, lack the necessary knowledge, or even just come and ask her things every five minutes. She was embarrassed that her mind involuntary formed the thought that it was nice to deal with an adult, someone who knew what he could do, someone she could ask questions to, unlike Ron and Harry, on which she couldn’t rely on for even putting up the wards or gathering herbs. Without her foresight, her anxiety, they would have been forced to leave the Burrow with nothing. In the immediate aftermath of Fleur and Bill’s wedding, she had patted herself on the back, complimented herself for her foresight, for all she had packed, but as it was with everything that had happened since they left Hogwarts, there was an undercurrent of irritation for how much she had to do, how far she had to stretch herself to cover what Harry and Ron never even bothered to think about. Just because she _would_ and _could_ do things, it didn’t mean she wouldn’t have appreciated some _help_.

With Malfoy, she couldn’t help but feel relieved, she could sleep better at night and the days weren’t as tiring as before. She wished Harry and Ron understood how helpful he was being. He had always been better than her at potions, but to see exactly how skilled he was at it, how many potions he could brew by memory, almost left her staring at him with awe. It was a something they had desperately needed, they were running low on a lot of potions they might need if something went wrong, and things _always_ went wrong. The fact that he could also gather ingredients had been such a shock and a relief it almost made her cry. When he told her of his plan to look for dittany on the next waxing moon, her eyes had actually gone wet with barely repressed tears. He seemed to know exactly what was valuable in their situation, the importance of planning and of using as little magic as possible outside the wards.

Hermione also had to acknowledge that Malfoy knew the dangers of failure personally, after all the cruciato was an unforgivable for a reason. She felt guilty for even agreeing just partially with some of what he’d said in his outburst of rage, because Harry and Ron were her best friend, and he had always been an enemy. But she couldn’t help it. It almost broke her, burned her out, how much they put on her shoulders without even trying to do something first themselves. She loved Harry, he was like a brother, but his and Ron’s lack of knowledge of even basic spells and charms that were not meant for battle was infuriating most of the time, not to mention that neither could brew, or raise wards or create expansions charms, and they didn’t even bother to cook most of the time, and cleaned only when she screamed at them to do so.

It was exhausting, and the more she drifted towards Malfoy, the more she felt guilty and selfish. But it was good, it was so _good_ , talking to someone who had actual input instead of expecting her to explain everything as if she was a dictionary. She didn’t know some things, she wasn’t all-knowing, and it was nice to debate with Malfoy about tracking spells, about charmed objects and clothes, everything she could talk about without revealing too much about about the Horcruxes.

She had never felt before the kind of panic that seized her when she saw Malfoy crumble after his fight with Harry and Ron. She’d followed him more worried for _him_ than for the fact that he could escape. She didn’t even want to think about it too much, Hermione just focused on the relief she’d felt when he followed her back, practically shadowing her in silence until they reached the new campsite. They were allies, albeit reluctant ones, and they needed each other, that was all, that why she’d been anxious.

On a particularly cold January morning, he thought her how to cast a warming spell that would stick to her coat that would allow her to save some energy and magic instead of constantly casting a warming spells around her, which could be detected if someone was looking for magical activity. She looked at the way his hand moved his wand carefully around the seams of her coat, magic humming pleasantly around them, his eyes almost shining like silver in the morning light.

She wondered, not for the first time, what was going on in his head. After the outburst with Harry and Ron, he’d started occluding even more than he did before, hiding the cracks he’d accidentally showed them. Hermione was surprised to find herself somehow saddened by that. She wanted to tell him that she understood what he meant when he said that the world wasn’t black and white, that their troubles would not end with Voldemort’s death, that she would have almost welcomed him as an acquaintance, if not a friend if he made the effort. Instead he had sealed himself behind a wall. She couldn’t blame him. Harry was always oscillating between guilt and ager these days because of his nightmares, whilst Ron remained irritable and angry because of her clear refusal to talk to him more than necessary. Malfoy occluding was probably the only thing that stopped the three of them from having another argument. The thought didn’t ease her sadness.

Once he was done with her coat, he handed it to her and turned back to his ingredients without a word. She slipped it on and hummed contentedly as warmth spread to her cold arms and shoulders. Hermione turned the Transfiguration book over in her hands as she tried to think of something to say to get him to talk. He was a bit like a wild animal, always expecting her to suddenly take out a knife to stab him. She wondered if someone had actually done that to him, maybe Bellatrix.

‘You need to tell me something, you need to start somewhere’ Hermione said in the end, incapable of thinking of something better.

They were sitting outside of the tent on a log, the pale winter sun rising through the thin clouds and the fire almost dead at their feet. Harry and Ron were still sleeping inside, and Malfoy’s attention was focused solely on cutting herbs and roots for the various potions he had to brew. She had made him a list, of course, but he had added some on his own that he thought they might need, and after seven years with Harry and Ron who had very little input on the task she assigned them beside complaining, he had no idea how much that meant to her, why she insisted to keep him company.

‘Will you answer my questions?’ he asked, surprising her.

‘That depends on the question’ Hermione said furrowing her brow, wondering if he’d figured something out about the Horcruxes. She was sure she let nothing slip, but she might have been wrong.

‘Do you habitually talk when you sleep or did you do it just to annoy me?’

She was effectively paralysed at that, and he couldn’t help but smirk. Her time, the small moments she had carved for herself in the tent while he was sick… had he been conscious for it? Had he heard about her parents? Not even Harry and Ron knew about it, she’d just told them she had convinced them to move away.

‘What to do you remember?’ she asked trying not to let him see how bothered she was. His eyes were on her anyway, studying, calculating. Would he use it as leverage against her?

‘Not much, something about your parents, hexing Weasley. I would love to see that, by the way’ he said and she released a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She had thought it would be much worse. That… that she could deny.

‘You weren’t supposed to hear’

‘I suppose I drifted in and out more than you imagined’ he just said, his attention back to the ingredients in his lap, his fingers as careful and calculated as his eyes had been on her just seconds before. He had never cut himself so far, a record for her standards, since she somehow always managed to injure herself while preparing ingredients to brew, not to mention what brewing did to her hair.

‘Great’ she muttered, looking down at her snow boots. She wondered if Malfoy knew a spell to keep her shoes warm as well, she should ask him about that, change the subject.

‘I don’t remember much, just the sound of your voice, how sometimes you seemed sad or angry. It was weird, sometimes in my nightmares it made Bellatrix have your voice’ he added, and he almost seemed to be trying to comfort her, but it just made her sick at the thought of Bellatrix torturing him in his dreams with her voice.

’Sorry’ she murmured.

Malfoy shrugged.

There was silence after that, and Hermione looked around them. The wards were still in good shape, and the forest was slowly waking up around them, birds chirping and snow slowly melting and dripping from the bare branches.

‘He was looking for something’ Malfoy said breaking the silence, almost startling her.

‘What?’ Hermione looked at him confused, but he was still focused on his herbs.

‘A wand, at the beginning. He even took my father’s one day. Then he went straight to the source, to Olivander’ he added and Hermione couldn’t help but be anxious about the old wand maker.

’Is he okay?’

‘As okay as one can be in the Manor’s dungeons’ Malfoy finally lowered the swiss knife he’d used to cut the valerian roots and turned to her, waiting for the sarcasm that dipped from her lips after such a discovery.

‘Of course your creepy house has dungeons. Did he found it?’

‘I’m not sure. He’s volatile when he doesn’t get his way, those were always the days when someone got tortured or killed, but I think he did, find it, that is’ mentions of Voldemort being angry always made Malfoy shake, and she tried to avoid the topic as much as could, but it was fascinating and sad to see how Occlumency allowed him to talk about it without showing any emotions at all, voice even and eyes like cold stones.

‘He isn’t looking for anything else?’ she asked, trying to push her luck.

‘No, not that I know of, he was pretty happy with his new wand although…’

‘Although?’ she asked turning towards him completely. He looked down at his hands, and Hermione suddenly knew that he’d seen _something_.

‘I got… crucio’d more often, when he got the new wand, and I wasn’t exactly observant so don’t take this as a fact, but his new wand looked a lot like Dumbledore’s. It made me sick even looking at it’ the last words were almost a whisper, and Hermione tried not to think about how traumatic Dumbledore’s death had been for him, albeit in a completely opposite way to what it had been for her and Harry and Ron.

‘Dumbledore’s wand?’ she asked, trying to compose himself, letting the information simmer inside her brain, trying to see where it would lead, in which part of the unfinished puzzle that were Dumbledore’s secrets it would fit. If Voldemort had taken that wand it was for a reason.

‘I think so, but I’m not one hundred percent sure’ Malfoy repeated, his eyes on her, evaluating, understanding he’d given her something important.

‘That’s good enough for me’ she said leaving him alone and going inside to wake Harry. She took the copy of the Fables that Dumbledore had left her in his will and sat on Harry’s cot, gently shaking him wake. She had a theory, maybe Harry’s dreams were showing him something.


	5. The Ritual

It was two weeks after Granger woke him up that they moved for the second time. They went farther, risking being discovering by apparating and then walking to Granger’s chosen location, a forest near the border between Scotland and England. It was the first time Draco saw Granger create the wards for their new camp, which were good, but not nearly as strong as Draco thought they should be given the fact that they were trying to hide from the Dark Lord himself.

‘You could make them stronger’ he said looking at her with his arms crossed. He missed his wand, he would have stressed his point by nudging at the weak spots in the wards if he’d had it.

‘ _How_? This is the most powerful warding spell known’ she snapped, irritated. She fought with Weasley again earlier, it always made her irritable to start the day like that and he couldn’t blame her. Weasley was insufferable, he just got worse the more she refused to talk to him.

‘You can create more powerful wards with runes. They are rooted in elemental magic and blood magic, and they’re almost unbreakable. It’s how the wards of many pureblood Manors were created and maintained through centuries’

Once again, Draco was shocked to see her look at him with curiosity and wonder, genuinely interested in what he was saying. Then her expression shifted, distrust clouding her eyes.

‘I haven’t seen it mentioned anywhere’ she said almost pouting offended, making him scoff.

‘It’s not shared in written records. Do you think Pureblood families want everyone to know how they protect their houses and everything of value they have inside? If you don’t trust me just say so, we can do it with your blood’

She worried her lips, thinking it through.

‘Tell me which runes, explain it to me. _In detail._ ’

He did, and he smirked when he saw her frown, trying to commit to memory the various passages by mouthing the words, but it was too complicated to get at the first try. He knew from personal experience how difficult it was to remember the correct placement of runes and spells from when his father had first allowed him to tag along for the annual ritual to fortify the wards at Malfoy Manor.

‘I can do it the first time with your blood, so you’ll be the one controlling the wards. You can take notes’ he said in the end, and she still didn’t look convinced, but he knew she could see the merits of the idea.

She took a breath, straightened her back gave him her hand. Draco used her wand to cut her palm with a spell and she didn’t even flinch.

He hesitated while holding her hand, the other hoovering just over the blood that was pooling in her palm, and all kinds of questions were suddenly at the forefront of his mind. She broke everything, proved wrong everything he thought he knew, and made him question his father’s words, his father’s actions. Had he ever believed? Or was he mean to her because she was Potter’s friend? Because he wanted his father to be proud?

He knew magic was magic, he had read enough to know that there was no difference between the magic signature in muggleborns, halfbloods, and purebloods, on the contrary, more and more pureblood family had squids because they married so much among each other.

‘Afraid you’ll get dirty?’ she asked, prideful, spiteful, like always.

Draco debated what to tell her. He did owe her. He was alive because of her, even with all his goodwill, Potter didn’t have the skills she had, he wouldn’t have survived the fever without her. He supposed he could come clear on some things, lower his walls an inch and allow her to trust him, allow himself to trust her. It was the only way to get his mother out alive. Even if begrudgingly, he had to help them to help himself, and whilst he preferred more objective facts to determine his trust, the stupid Gryffindors relied on feelings. So had to give something.

‘I was jealous’ he said in the end.

‘Of what?’

‘Potter. I was jealous and angry because there never seems to be consequences for him, because it always looks like he’s allowed to fail upwards’

‘That’s not how it was. It wasn’t easy for him, it was painful most of the time’ she said, looking at him almost with pity, clearly thinking back to his argument with Potter and Weasley.

‘I was also disappointed, because I thought everyone would be as excited to study as I was and the only one who shared my passion was _you_. An enemy’

Granger huffed a laugh, her hand still in his, blood in her palm, rich red among the muted whites of the snow covered forest.

‘You could have been less of an ass’

‘Maybe’ he conceded, ‘but I wanted to make my father proud’

‘How did that work out?’ she asked raising an eyebrow.

‘Not very well’ he admitted, his finger dripping into the blood in her palm.

He knelt on the ground and started to draw the runes near the edge of the wards she had already raised. The runes shined briefly before being swallowed into the earth, creating the impenetrable perimeter that would protect them.

‘This is stronger than normal wards. No one in but you but also no one out unless you allow it. You’ll have to warn dumb and dumber’ he warned her, but she wasn’t looking at wards, she was looking at him, trying to determine something, and it made him nervous.

‘Do you regret it?’ she asked, concise and straight to the point as always. Draco could appreciate that, even if he didn’t particularly liked it at the moment.

‘Some things, other things I do not’

‘Shouldn’t you reject everything?’ she asked, and she seemed really angry at him, as if he’d suddenly called her a mudblood again. Draco felt disoriented by this shift in her, almost whiplashed. He expected Potter and Weasley to attack him like that, not her. He’d almost come to accept her as an ally, although a reluctant one, and he felt like a fool once again. He had misread her, projected, imagined she’d understood when she clearly hadn’t?

It chipped away at the tenuous sense of security he had come to associate with his position within the Golden Trio, his mind reeling, trying to figure out backup plans or when they would inevitably stab him in the back and leave him behind, all of it whilst he reverted back to mean words to protect himself.

‘And why is that? Even if the Dark Lord had not been a factor, even if he had really died after the first war, my father would have still been my father’

‘Mh, so you believe your education made you mean?’ it was more of a statement than a question, she looked at him with arms crossed over her chest, evaluating him as much as he was evaluating her.

‘Your education made you petulant, you can barely withstand not being first, not being the best. You’ve never been offended by me calling you a mudblood as you were when I had better grades in Potions’ he said with a sneer.

She pushed her lips in a thin line, clenching her jaw. She was clearly trying not to slap him, but he continued anyway, doubling down, because that was all he was capable of doing. He never failed at making more bad choices for himself.

‘Potter and Weasley weren’t kinder either at the beginning, weren’t they? Weasley could barely stand you until he figure out he could use you…’

‘ _Careful_ , Malfoy.’

‘I’m not saying anything that isn’t true.’

‘You don’t know us’ she almost shouted, hands fisted at her sides.

‘And you don’t know me.’ he snapped ‘I’m not trying to look for excuses for myself. But sometimes I just want to wipe that righteous grin off your faces. We’re all barely more than teenagers trying to survive this, but just because you think you’re good and right it doesn’t mean you always are. You don’t know me, Granger. You don’t know shit about the way Wizarding Society works, the role of pureblood families have in it, even after all you’ve read. If you knew, you wouldn’t have been surprised at how easy it was for the Dark Lord to take over the Ministry’

‘We _are_ right’ she insisted, not objecting to his words, not directly.

‘Just because you know you’re _mostly_ right it does not mean that every single action you is instantly made pure by that. Your stunt in fifth year got my father in Azkaban and Sirius Black…’

‘Shut up!’

His eyes moved over her, he was so close could see the anger bubbling inside her, the snowflakes trapped in her hair. She was doing too much, as always. She had called him a control freak but she was one as well, although she had become one because Potter and Weasley always dumped responsibilities on her without thinking. He was too tired to continue, he didn’t want to have fight even her.

He took a breath, a step back, and then spoke again, trying to calm himself, trying to let go of the anger. _She’d fought with Weasley_ , he tried to remind himself, he was still skittish because of his fight with Potter _and_ Weasley. They were a good team, and if they could avoid their divergent ideas on morality for a while longer maybe they could it make out alive and go their separate ways, never seeing each other again.

‘It’s complicated, Granger’ he said with a sigh, ‘not everything is black and white. If it was, it wouldn’t be this hard’

‘I’m aware of that’ she snapped, ‘but that doesn’t make you any less of an ass, who’s… who’s full of himself and mean. You know what? You deserve everything that happened to you, just like your father did. No, you’re _exactly_ like your father’ she shouted, angry and pointing her finger at him. She seemed to regret those words the moment they left her mouth, the moment she saw how they hit him like a knife cutting through him, but before she could apologise Draco was back on the offensive, trying to protect himself in the only way he knew.

Why was he always so stupid to fall for it? For the impossible possibility of them trusting him if he showed himself? He wasn’t like them, he would never be.

‘Yes, I am the villain of the story, Granger. Once you Avada me in the chest everything will be roses and rainbows again. The Dark Lord will disappear and everything will go back to what it was before. But you don’t know what it was before, do you? You came with Potter and saw the Wizarding World only when it was already bent towards the rise of the Dark Lord, but you know there are things that paved the way, problems that won’t disappear with him, like Professor Lupin’s condition, people like Fudge holding the keys to the country, even the house elves you cared so much about, and those won’t rectify themselves when this is over’

‘Don’t lecture me’ she said, but her voice was shaking, as if she was about to cry, as if those weren’t the words she meant to speak.

‘It’s more of a reality check, you’re morals are making you blind, which could lead to disaster, and I would like not to die just yet’

‘I _hate_ you’ she murmured, and she meant it, he could see it in her eyes.

It was weirdly comforting, something that came straight from the simplicity of their shared past. He hated himself too.

He’d failed his family, and the only consolation was that he was taking back some of the control on himself, closing himself off with Occlumency so that no one would ever see him weak again, forever burying the kid who called for his father and lost control trying to outdo Potter.

Draco just turned his back to her and kept drawing the runes, strengthening the wards with her blood. He wished she had slapped him again, he wondered if he would feel something then, something that wasn’t the gut wrenching pain that made his heart hurt.

‘Careful Malfoy, you’ll bury yourself alive if you keep going like that’ she said before leaving, irritating him to no end by reminding him that she could see when he used Occlumency.

‘Wouldn’t you like that? Someone you can boss around that will actually do the work and without the moral weight of an Imperio’ he sneered, and he could almost hear her gritting her teeth.

‘You forgot something and I need my wand’ Draco added before she could stomp away in anger.

‘ _What_?’ she snapped.

‘Whatever my mother used, there’s still dark magic lingering in me, I need to perform a purifying ritual’

Granger threw his wand at him.

* * *

Malfoy was naked in the stream, only his trunks on, and Harry blushed a little before his blood turned cold when the scars on Malfoy’s chest became more visible as he approached. That was his fault, his fault and Voldemort’s. Malfoy was a living reminder of what his link to the dark wizard was doing to everyone around him. Hermione had mentioned he might attempt a purifying ritual to eliminate the dark magic still lingering in his system, and Harry had blushed at that as he didn’t know that was something that could be done, his mind going back to the way Malfoy had screamed and accused him of being an idiot who never gave much thought to things. He had to reluctantly accept that _some_ of the things he’d said where true.

Only _some_.

There were runes carved on Malfoy’s body, on his arms, his chest, and Harry could see the remnants of dark magic dripping out of it like dark blood, reaching the unusually shiny water and turning to smoke. He wondered what Malfoy and Hermione had fought about, this looked like something she would want to see and study. Harry couldn’t help thinking that that their argument was his fault as well, in a way. Malfoy had been withdrawn and skittish since their fight, and he’d probably been mean to Hermione just so he could keep her away as well.

Harry tired to approach him calmly, but old habit made him speak before he could stop himself.

‘That’s not enough water to drown yourself in, Malfoy’

‘Fuck off, Potter’

His voice was flat, there was no edge to it, no anger or annoyance, and Harry was sure it was because of the Occlumency. The runes on his chest started to glow faintly, the dark liquid seeping out of them looking more and more the colour of blood. Malfoy opened his eyes and caught him looking at his chest, his face twisting briefly in an expression Harry couldn’t decipher before turning blank once again.

‘I consider myself decidedly more handsome than the people you usually hang out with, I’m glad you agree’

‘Shut up’ Harry said looking away, blushing again.

It was ridiculous, Malfoy was ridiculous and petulant, and he just… he wanted to _understand_. It was unnerving watching him and Hermione bicker and talk and discuss in what felt like a foreign language most of the time. They talked of advance magic Harry had barely heard of, stuff he should have probably paid more attention to in class. Beside being an incredible skilled Potionist, Malfoy had revealed himself also very well versed in Alchemy, Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, subjects in which Hermione excelled at but about which Malfoy clearly knew a lot more. Hermione had a wider knowledge of Charms, Transfiguration and a more detailed knowledge of History of Magic. They spent so much time together, arguing, of course, but also talking, and Harry felt… left out, and useless. Malfoy’s words about his ignorance, about things being handed to him just because he was the Chosen One, ringing in his ears. He had spent days mulling over their fight, thinking back to their time at Hogwarts, when things seemed more easier and straightforward. Harry had come to agree that it _had_ been ridiculous the way Gryffindors had accused Snape of favouritism towards the Slytherins when at the same time McGonagall had pushed for him to fly when no one else in their year was allowed to and given an incredible powerful and forbidden artefact to Hermione just so she could attend more classes. He loved Quidditch, but he had to admit it was a dangerous sport for an eleven years old to practice just weeks after he first jumped on a broom and discovered magic, and Hermione had been extremely close to having a burnout in third year, even if she would have never admitted to the fact.

‘Is this the purification ritual? You’ll freeze to death’ the end of January was almost upon them, but the air was still cold, the snow holding firm on the ground even if a faint sun appeared from time to time between the white clouds.

‘I understand your knowledge of such practices is scarce, but I need a moment. So let me have one.’ Malfoy said turning his back to him, his voice still flat. There were some scars on his back as well, not as visible as the ones the Sectumsempra had left on his chest, but Harry could see their outline clearly. He wondered how he’d got them, if it was because of the torture he’d endured.

‘Are you occluding? You don’t need Occlumency with us’

‘Don’t I?’ Malfoy asked turning around, an eyebrow raised at him. He was halfway into the stream, water reaching his hips and he didn’t look even a little bit cold or bothered by the ritual, by the dark magic that evaporated around him, the black trails it left on his body from the runes to where the water touched his skin.

‘You don’t trust us?’ Harry asked, almost offended, even if he knew the reason why. He wasn’t _that_ obtuse, he’d seen the way Malfoy had panicked, the way he had fallen back on being mean trying to protect himself, clearly feeling cornered and attacked when he and Ron had argued against him.

‘Are you _that_ thick?’ Malfoy asked before he sighed, ‘trust has to be mutual, Potter. Will you tell me about the cup, or about the fancy sword in Granger’s purse?’

Harry was silent, and Malfoy let a smirk break through his walls, happy to have won another round. Harry didn’t like that.

He sat down on a rock nearby and Malfoy turned his back to him once more, his hair almost white in the cold winter morning. Some rays of sun managed to open a way through the clouds, and the forest seemed to become warmer, the water in the stream shining of a pearl-like gleam.

‘Do you think we would have been friends? If You-Know-Who had never been a factor? If my parents had been alive? Snape used to say my father could be… _mean_ , in his jokes. Far meaner that you ever were, when he picked on others’ Harry started to wonder out loud, not even understanding why. The more nightmares he had, the more he found himself wishing for another reality, a reality in which the wedge between Malfoy and himself could be just petty squabbles and rivalries at school, not life and death issues thrusted on their shoulders because of a war their parents had started and couldn’t finish properly.

‘You know, the Hat wanted to sort me into Slytherin. But you were right, I took Ron’s word as some sort of universal truth because he was the first friend I ever had and begged to be put in Gryffindor with him’ he added when Malfoy didn’t answer, filling the silence.

A crow sang in a tree not far from them, and Harry looked down at his battered shoes, feeling useless at the thought that he still had to go to Hermione in oder to know if there was a repairing spell. She had fixed his glasses and then he’d just tagged along with Ron, who’d been almost as mean as Malfoy to her before their friendship began after the Halloween troll incident.

‘It’s useless to wonder about what ifs’ said Malfoy in the end, his back still turned to him, and Harry sighed again.

‘Maybe. It makes me want to change things, though. I know your father pushed you a lot, and you were mean, but so was I some of the time, and I think we could have been… we could still be, friends’

At that, Malfoy seemed to go very still, his hands clenching underneath the water.

‘If not for my mother’s crazy stunt, I wouldn’t have joined you. I would have stayed with them until the end. You understand that, don’t you?’ Malfoy’s voice was sharper, his voice careful. Was he afraid?

‘I _do_ understand. I think I would have done the same for my family, and after knowing what the circumstances were it’s hard to fault you for making the choices you made. We’re just… stuck, on the sides our parents chose years ago, it’s hard for me not to wonder what I could have done differently if Dumbledore, if _anyone_ , had told me what had happened immediately, if less secrets had been kept. It feels unfair, and I feel stupid for having fallen for it. I behaved like I knew everything, like the rivalry we had was destined to escalate, for you to become a Death Eater like your father and for me to be in the Order like mine. Cedric had died, Sirius had died, yet it still felt easy to understand. I hate Dumbledore as well for that, if he knew You-Know-Who threatened you and sent you on a mission to kill him, he could have done more, he could have told me, helped you, instead he… let Snape kill him, and I still don’t understand what was that for.’

For the first time, Harry felt as if he was on the verge of tears, as if the weight of everything that had happened was finally falling down on him. He was grateful Malfoy was still giving him his back, trails of red blood now substituting the trails of black dark magic on his forearms, probably signifying the ritual was reaching its end.

‘Maybe’

Malfoy’s voice almost startled him. Harry looked up after wiping away the tears from his cheeks, finding him sitting down in the river, the water almost reaching his shoulders.

‘Your parents were rich, too. Your godfather was the last Black. You would have been a spoiled brat as well’ Malfoy added, and Harry huffed out a laugh. If he closed his eyes he could almost see it, reach for it, a life in which he and Malfoy were friends, he would still be friends with Ron and Hermione, but maybe he wouldn’t be in Gryffindor, no dark wizard looming in the shadows.

Harry wondered if he should apologise for what he’d said during their fight, but it still felt unfair, Malfoy had to apologise too, and once again, before he could stop himself, he said something he never thought he would say to Draco Malfoy.

‘I’m sure you’ve noticed that things with Ron are a bit weird’ he found himself saying, and maybe it was easier, letting this out to what had been his nemesis, someone who expected him to be the worst, he didn’t feel the same kind of pressure he felt with others about his friendship with Ron.

‘He… left us. One day he just… _left_. It was very hard for me and Hermione. He came back just before you and your mother appeared, after Snape’s patronus, and that was, uh, great, but… things are still a bit weird.’

‘I’m not your therapist, Potter…’

‘It’s very hard, to get your head around the feeling of betrayal, especially if it was caused by someone you always thought would never leave your side.’

Malfoy said nothing at that, he was so still in the water he could be made of marble. It was unnerving. He’d changed so much, it was like the Draco Malfoy Harry had thought he knew had died the same day Sirius had.

‘People react to pressure in different ways’ Malfoy said after so much time Harry was once again almost startled by his voice, ‘Weasley always had an inferiority complex, being your friend made him feel like he had something that could take him out of his brothers’ shadows, but he just ended up in yours. Of course, with you being a dumbass that runs head first into trouble, that also means that being with you comes with duties and responsibilities and expectations, words that Weasley seems unable to understand the meaning of.’

Harry had never heard Malfoy talk to him like that for so long, his tone was calm, not outright flat, but controlled, he wasn’t even sneering or making fun of them. Occlumency really was something.

‘And you know a lot about duties, responsibilities and expectations?’ Harry asked, unable to bite back a bit.

‘I do. All my life has always been centred about the expectations other had of me because I was a Malfoy, my duties as a Malfoy, my responsibilities to my family as a Malfoy.’

It felt like Malfoy had just showed him something, and Harry let go of his defences a little bit.

‘I know I’m a lot’ he said awkwardly, looking once more down at his shoes.

‘You don’t do much for yourself either.’

‘Excuse me?’

Malfoy stood up, slowly turned around, and Harry thought he could see it in his grey eyes, how he was occluding, controlling himself, he envied it.

‘You need to be more mindful of Granger.’

The words shocked Harry, leaving his mind black.

‘She’s been doing all the legwork, and it’s a strain when both you and Weasley don’t recognise her work and keep demanding more. At least you have the one redeeming quality of being quite good at defence, but Weasley so far has none.’

‘I’m… I’m very thankful to Hermione, I’m…’

‘Potter, _I_ brew the potions now that we have this arrangement, _I_ reinforced the wards and covered out tracks with runes and gather the ingredients for said potions. Before, _Granger_ did _all_ of this. The most you and Weasley have done this week was set up the tent. You two ding-dongs don’t even cook. This isn’t Hogwarts, you can’t just hope to copy her answers before going to class, and this is without mentioning the shocking lack of knowledge both you and Weasley have of charms and spells not related to battle. And this isn’t _that_ kind of battle, you’re trying to survive until you find whatever it is that you need to find that has Granger buried under twenty different books every other day. And since you lot gave me the benefit of extenuating circumstance, let’s say I’ll do the same, let’s say your troubles kept you from studying, it still doesn’t explain your ignorance of even basic potions that, if you haven’t notice, could mean the difference between life and death. What do you think would have happen if instead of Weasley, it was Granger that got hurt when you clumsily infiltrated the Ministry? Do you reckon she would have received the same amount of care Weasley had? Would you have let her bleed to…’

‘ _STOP!_ ’ Harry screamed standing up, angry and ashamed, hands shaking.

Malfoy was still in the water, looking unperturbed.

‘This is a mutually beneficial arrangement, Potter. I don’t care about the drama of your trio, I do only in so far as it helps us stay alive and do whatever it is that you think you need to do. _But…_ ’ Malfoy said, slowly walking up to him from the river, and Harry hated that he was taller, that he could be so rational and good at Occlumency. The runes on his body were glowing a bright yellow and slowly disappearing, his chest and arms now cleared of the trails left by dark magic and blood while he water of the stream looking almost as silver as his eyes in the aftermath of the ritual.

‘Granger isn’t _mulling_ over what happened with Weasley. Granger wants to _hex_ Weasley into the next century, and she’s choosing not to for the sake of keeping the peace. If you put too much on her she’ll break, and if _she_ breaks, it’s _over_. I can’t help you like she can, and if she can’t help you, you lot can’t help me either. Do you understand?’

‘I understand’ Harry said, looking right into Malfoy’s silver eyes and trying to keep in the tears born out of frustration and shame.

Was he losing his friends? Was he really being so reckless with everyone’s lives?

’She doesn’t hate you, Potter, relax’ Malfoy said, and Harry feared for a moment that he could read his mind. ‘But you used to be like a house elf for your muggle family, yes?’

At that, Harry gave him a look of warning that made Malfoy huff.

’You obviously cannot do what you do not know, so start with what you _do_ know. Start with cooking something. Make her tea and bring it to her if she’s reading. In conclusion, wipe your own ass and be considerate. You lost your family for something out of your control, but she had to let go of hers to help you, and then Weasley left because he was feeling a bit blue about his. Do I need to say more?’

Harry shook his head, understanding exactly what Malfoy had said.

‘How could you see so much about her?’ he asked, genuinely curious, and for the first time he clearly saw the moment Malfoy used Occlumency, a wall of pure silver rising behind in his eyes. He was sure he and Hermione never spoke about personal matters, and they’d hated each other for so long…

‘I’m not an idiot’ he muttered before walking past him, bumping into Harry’s shoulder on purpose, _petty_.

Harry knew it wasn’t a lie, but it was also not the truth. It made him wonder again. Hermione never talked to him about how she felt about things, about Malfoy joining them, she only talked to him to give him practical instructions or share important information about the Horcruxes and… Harry flinched, realising how painfully right Malfoy was.

That evening, while Hermione was engrossed in an advanced Transfiguration textbook, Harry made her tea, then he went to her bag and took out the pans, bacon, butter and potatoes and started to cook on the small stove after sending Ron to get more water.

* * *

Hermione looked up from her Transfiguration textbook when the smell of bacon reached her nose, and was surprised to find Harry cooking, a warm cup of tea next to her and Ron hoovering around the camping stove trying to see how he could help.

She blinked, wondering what had gotten into them, then she turned around and saw Malfoy sulking by his cot, carefully cutting into precise pieces the Valerian roots he had found that afternoon. He had been in a terrible mood after he came back from whatever it was that he did, and she suspected he and Harry had another argument, as she had seen them both coming from the direction of the stream, but she didn’t know for sure. She wanted to ask him about the purifying ritual, if it went well, if he could teach her how to do one, how did it actually work, but she was still angry at him from their argument. She knew he turned mean as a defence mechanism, but it was still irritating the way he’d pushed her.

She didn’t understand him. Or better, a moment she thought she did and the next he behaved almost irrationally, getting angry, trying to either justify himself or take all the blame, but always shutting everyone out. It just added to her confusion about the way she felt herself drift towards him, the unease she felt at how easily they complemented each other.

They ate in silence, the radio quiet for one night, and Ron was the only one who tried to start some mindless conversation about Quidditch or the whether with Harry. Malfoy never spoke, he seemed to do so only when it allowed him to irritate or mock her, his focus was entirely on the apple he was peeling with the pocketknife he’d borrowed from her to cut the ingredients for the potions he was brewing. She hated how better than her he was at it, she hated that he wasn’t kind and made almost no apologies for it, and she hated how much he was fortifying himself with Occlumency. She hated herself for the fact the she could tell he’d seen Gryffindor’s sword, still on her cot where she had left if after trying to examine it all afternoon and said nothing about it, even though she _knew_ he wanted to say something. She would have to wait until she was alone with him again, both in a good mood, to get some cryptic answers out of him.

When silence fell again, and Hermione was almost ready to get up to avoid the awkwardness of the situation or before an argument could start, Malfoy suddenly spoke.

‘The Dark Lord entrusted some things to his most loyal servants before he attacked the Potters and the Longbottom during the First War. The diary was given to my father, but he also gave something to Bellatrix and her husband. Whilst she was in Azkaban, it was my mother who managed her vaults at Gringotts. I’ve thought about it, and my mother obviously knew what the Dark Lord had given to her sister and her husband to keep safe. Whilst my father retrieved the diary after a letter arrived from Hogwarts before the start of second year, from Pettigrew I assume, whatever had been given to Bellatrix was still in her vaults. She wouldn’t have come here just hoping for you to take me in out of the goodness of your heart, she’s not that reckless or desperate. She needed a bargaining chip, something valuable. So I assume the cup was what the Dark Lord gave her, yes?’ Malfoy said this without ever raising his eyes from the apple in his hand, and Hermione could feel Harry tense beside her, Ron looking at them trying to understand what to do.

‘Yes’ Harry agreed in the end, his grip on the fork in his hand so tight his knuckles were white.

‘I once went to the Lestrange vault with my mother, she took me there two weeks before I left for Hogwarts in first year, she wanted us to spend some time together, and I never thought about it much after that, not even after all the rumours about you killing a Basilisk with a sword. _Yet_ … I clearly remember seeing that very sword that is now on Granger’s cot in Bellatrix’s vault at Gringotts when I was eleven. Another _coincidence_ , I suppose’ he said, the last words sarcastic, and Hermione blinked trying to process the information.

‘Uh’ was all she could manage to say, surprised both at the piece of information and at the fact that he was speaking again, in front of Harry and Ron. Maybe he needed to have purifying rituals more often.

‘Why would Slytherins have the sword of Gryffindor?’ asked Ron, and Hermione exhaled exasperated.

Malfoy had seen the sword, but he had not know _what_ sword it was exactly, although he didn’t seem shocked by the revelation.

‘I’ve used it before, in the Chamber of Secrets, so probably it’s never been there for long’ Harry added, his brow furrowed while he tried to think this through as much as she was.

‘That’s not the point’ Malfoy said finally looking up, looking first at Harry and then his eyes fixing on her. The first thought Hermione had was that he shouldn’t ignore Ron like that, the more he did, the more irritated and angry Ron would become. It was just another argument brewing, and she didn’t have the strength to stop it. Her second thought was that she’d missed him. She liked talking to him.

Hermione tried to ignore those last thoughts, but it was always…. it was weird, what his eyes did to her, the way he looked at her, and how her mind in turn ended up fixating on stupid details like the way his fingers raised the piece of apple to his mouth. He ate with class, of course, the epitome of manners. The complete opposite of Ron.

‘What’s the point then?’ she asked, the challenge sending a trill down her spine.

‘Gryffindor’ he said, the only nod he made at the information they’d accidentally revealed ‘made a sword that can _appear_ at Hogwarts, _disappear_ from Gringotts’ he said and her breath itched. It was a good point. She’d spent so much time focused on the materials and inscription she’d overlooked the most obvious piece of information, but even if it was interesting, it didn’t explain why the sword had destroyed not one but two Horcruxes. It was probably the Basilik venom absorbed by the Goblin’s silver, but Hermione still didn’t understand _why_ the venom was lethal to Horcruxes whilst Goblin’s silver wasn’t. It was obvious that Hocruxes were powerful objects that couldn’t be destroyed by normal spells, but the details still escaped her.

’The magic is probably lost’ she said, trying to convey all that she couldn’t say. He seemed to understand.

‘Maybe you’re thinking of the wrong kind of magic, even of whatever it is that you’re looking for. There wasn’t always dark magic and good magic. At the times of the founders, there was _just_ magic. And the Dark Lord is obsessed with them, with Hogwarts’ he said before bringing another piece of apple to his mouth.

‘So what do you think?’ she asked, a little eager. Had he figured something out?

‘I’m not thinking anything. I _can’t_ think anything if you don’t tell me things, which, given the circumstances, it’s fair. _However_ , it’s always Hogwarts. In first year he disguised himself as a Hogwarts professor, then it was the Chamber of Secrets, Barty Crouch Jr using Polyjuice Potion to look like Mad-Eye Moody, and the list goes on and on. And maybe it’s Potter, but it seems like to me he has an obsession with the school for some reason’

‘Has he ever talked about it?’ Harry asked on the edge of his seat, almost as eager for answers as she was.

‘He is fascinated with the founders, with ancient wizards and artefacts. He didn’t care much for other dark wizards like Grindelwald, which is odd, in a way, and he always has Snape at every meeting, where he always asks about the situation at Hogwarts, how the students are, how the school is.’

‘I’ve thought about it, too’ Hermione confessed, ‘I think I might have a general idea of why it is connected, but I don’t have any concrete evidence.’

‘Why would he be obsessed with the founders?’ asked Harry looking first at her and then at Malfoy when she couldn’t give an immediate answer.

Malfoy sighed, annoyed, but not outright irritated.

‘Magic used to be rougher, back then. As I said, there wasn’t such a clear divide between dark and light magic, or whatever you want to call it. It’s not covered in the common history of magic textbooks not to give students the wrong ideas’

‘Which is ridiculous’ muttered Hermione, and Malfoy smirked, but it wasn’t his usual smirk, it was like he was… agreeing with her, and something fluttered in her stomach. Probably too much bacon.

‘Even sweet-as-honey Helga Hufflepuff would be considered dangerous nowadays, as she, too, practiced what then became defined as dark magic. Your friend Nicholas Flamel as well, he didn’t make the Philosopher’s Stone out of good wishes and unicorn’s breath. It’s harder to understand now, as we’ve grown up with the neat division between what can be accessed and what’s closed off in the Restricted Section, which happened because law and experience with bad faith wizards forced Wizarding society to move in such a direction.’

‘What’s your point?’ asked Ron, clearly annoyed ‘that You-Know-Who is trying to access that magic? Like making swords disappear?’

‘No, Weasley, you donkey. I’m saying that the Dark Lord thinks of magic differently, as obsessed as he is. He sees it as having no boundaries, no repercussions that he isn’t ready to accept. I think everyone here remembers our excursion in the Forbidden Forest with dead unicorns. Which means that when he makes something, it might not be just pure dark magic. Even something like the Dark Mark is not entirely created by dark magic, just like the sword of Gryffindor wasn’t created _without_ dark magic. Whatever you’re looking for, it’s bound to be something ancient, and if it’s ancient it might not be as neatly divided between dark and light as you might believe it to be.’

’We could… find weaknesses if we can identify the kind of magic used’ Hermione tried to reason, trying to wrap her mind about the endless possibilities that this created.

Curses could be broken down, so could wards, that was why Arithmancy was a core subject, yet Horcruxes seemed too obscure for her to even attempt such a process. Hermione looked up from the empty plate in her hands and she saw Harry squirm in his seat, clearly debating if they should tell Malfoy about the Horcruxes, but maybe it was still too soon. She moved the topic to something similar.

‘What do you remember of when your mother carved away the mark?’

He seemed to flinch at the question, his walls not as high as usual.

‘I was not myself, but I think… I think she used a dagger that belonged to Bellatrix, the handle looked the same. if it was the one I’m thinking of, it was a cursed dagger that was passed down for generations in the Black family. The Dark Mark… is … created with blood magic, it’s a sort of bonding, but one-sided. It’s a curse and a spell, and the basis of it is the same spell commonly used by tattoo artists in the Wizarding world, whilst the bond and curse are sort of a modified Unbreakable Vow, with a basic spell for communication added in, like the one you used in fifth year to gather in the Room of Requirements’

‘The Unbreakable Vow is the oldest pact-spell known’ Hermione said without even thinking, Malfoy nodded. ‘So what’s the dagger’s curse?’

Malfoy pressed his lips together, occluding and trying to remain as composed as he could.

‘It’s a poison curse’

‘W-What?’ stammered Harry.

‘It’s poisonous, the dagger. I think… I think it worked because my mother figured something out about the mark. After all she’s one of the few that has seen the ceremony several times: Bellatrix, my father and me, maybe even Snape. Not many can say the same. I think she understood that the mark would attack the poison to protect itself as it has a curse on it that prevents it from being removed, and by circling it and carving it out with a cursed dagger… ‘ he said, mindlessly touching his left forearm ‘I think she slowly severed it away from my body and my magic, like a flower that withers without water. It would also explain why no one suspected anything. I don’t know how much the Dark Lord feels through the mark but he would have felt me slowly dying, slipping away like the mark.’

‘How could the poison not spread to rest of you?’ Hermione asked, shocked that Narcissa had taken such a risky approach.

‘Because I’m a Black as well as a Malfoy, and usually these kind of family artefacts end up being tied to blood. So the curse on the dagger recognised the Mark as not _me_ because it was linked to the Dark Lord and attacked it, effectively disentangling it from me and my magic even if the curse placed on it should have prevented it. Funnily enough, since Weasley has the honour of having a Black as a grandmother, maybe the dagger wouldn’t have hurt him as well’

Ron seemed almost to be disgusted at the thought of the shared family connection with Malfoy, which made Harry huff a laugh.

Hermione bit her lower lip and tried to think back to all the research she had done about the locket and the sword. What was it about Basilik venom that could destroy the locket, the ring, and the diary when nothing else had worked? If it was a piece of Voldemort’s soul, couldn’t a simple Avada do the trick? She was sure Dumbledore must have tried that before using the sword.

‘Sometimes, curses are like a game of rock, paper, scissors. Scissors beats paper, paper beats rock, rock beats scissors’ Hermione said, reasoning out loud.

‘The blood link on the dagger outweighed the curse on the Mark, I suppose,’ Malfoy added, looking back down to his apple , ‘and if we go back to the sword, the fact that it appears and disappear may be because it’s tied to Gryffindor in some way. Which would imply bonding magic when it was forged with the decision taken by the Sorting Hat although there’s been some cases of extremely ancient artefacts developing almost a will of their own. Some objects can also be forged to specifically attack dark magic, although it’s an extremely difficult process and I’ve only read about it, never seen anything of the sort, as the few made are kept under lock and key in the Ministry for obvious reason. You cannot counteract something you do not understand deeply.’

Hermione’s mind started to run at that, she really wanted to talk about Horcruxes with him. Maybe he had heard about them. What did he know about magic that split the soul? Could only dark magic archive such a thing? Suddenly their argument was back on the forefront of her mind, and she had an idea.

‘You said pureblood use ancient warding spells with blood magic for their estates because they are stronger and more resistant to attack than normal wards. If what you said about the dagger it’s true, then blood magic is used to protect objects as well, but how can these protections be broken?’ she asked, and Malfoy paused, carefully weighting her words.

‘It has to be something exceptionally powerful. Something… corrosive, that would grind to dust the very foundations on which the wards were built upon, so that nothing could be left, as it’s the case when a bloodline ends with no heirs. That’s what my father used to say. That, or they could be easily taken down by those who made them. It’s why Grimmuld Place was half abandoned after Sirius Black was disowned. They could cut him out of his inheritance but they couldn’t severe his blood ties to the wards completely, as they’re too old, which makes them stronger but also more difficult to bend. It’s almost impossible to cut blood relatives out of blood wards more than three hundred years old’ he said, and Hermione could see his mind was somewhere else, maybe he was thinking about a memory he had of his father, of what the Manor used to be before Voldemort took over it.

He’d given her something she could work on, a new trail she could follow that looked promising. If Voldemort was obsessed with old magic, if old magic was a mix of dark and light magic, and if the old pureblood families Voldemort had been in strict contact with where the only ones who still commonly used blood magic… it could explain some of the contradictions she’d found when trying to better understand Horcruxes. But before she could say anything more, Harry closed the argument for her.

‘Let’s rest. You’ve done enough for today, Hermione. You’ll think better once you’ve slept for at least five hours’ Harry said standing up, practically sending her to bed like a child, making her almost pout. ‘I’ll take first watch, Ron help me wash the plates’

Hermione looked dumbfounded whilst Ron and Harry cleaned up and Malfoy went back to his potions.

Had something happened?


	6. The Uninvited

Malfoy snapped his fingers and a small fire appeared, immediately catching on the dry twigs he’d gathered while they walked towards the next spot they had chosen for their new campsite.

Hermione watched him carefully, marvelling at how he’d settled with ease into turning to non-verbal, wandless magic and runes as he was deprived of his wand. It required skilled, and it impressed her as much as it made her envious. She wondered if she could do the same if the need for it should arise, she wondered if he’d prepared for this. He mentioned that Voldemort had taken his father’s wand, had he expected to remain without his as well? She did remember seeing him in the library with Nott and Zabini, or alone, more than she saw anyone else, so she knew he considered studying as important as she did, although that answered none of her questions.

Even if a couple of days had passed since their argument, it didn’t feel like they had moved past it despite the discussion about the sword and blood wards. Malfoy had just kept going deeper and deeper behind his walls, and she had tried to avoid him like she was avoiding Ron. The latter was just more irritated by her behaviour.

‘Mione, can we talk?’

Ron’s voice startled her from her observation of Malfoy’s hands. She stood up from where she sat down on the ground fully prepared to give him another excuse, but one look at Ron’s face was enough to understand he wouldn’t have accepted it. She supposed it was time she acted like the Gryffindor she supposedly was.

‘Sure’ she agreed, a bit uncertain, leading him away from the spot where they had stopped to take a break before continuing on under the cover of the night. She saw with the corner of her eyes Harry looking at them with unease, taking a couple of steps in their direction before stopping himself and sitting with Malfoy near the fire.

‘I know you’ve been… avoiding me, and I get it. I’m really sorry for leaving, please forgive me’ Ron started to say as soon as they were out of earshot.

Hermione tried not to sigh, not to let her emotions show. Ron was eager, a blush already rising on his cheeks, eyes blue like a spring sky. She didn’t know what to say to him because she didn’t even know how she really felt, there was so much going on it felt stupid to be fixated on such inconsequential things like her feelings. She could excuse her newfound interest in Malfoy because he was a valuable ally, someone she couldn’t understand, someone she didn’t know as well as she knew Harry and Ron. And she _knew_ Ron was sorry, that he truly was. Yet, the day he left something had sinked inside her, and she didn’t have the heart to tell him that it was her feelings for him that had been forever lost underneath the waves. They would always be friends, she was certain of it, but the way he’d acted… it was like small shards of things he’d done and said that she had shaken off through the years as unimportant had suddenly gathered together, building into the very thing she’d tried to ignore, small disagreements suddenly becoming insurmountable differences. His selfishness, even if not evil per se, even if exacerbated by the curse on the locket, had shifted something in her that could not be put back into place, her perception of him forever altered. They couldn’t be anything more than friends, and even that felt stretched at the moment. It would have taken her time to forgive him in normal circumstances, now she could just hope that time and not thinking too much about it wouldn’t strain their relationship any further.

‘I am. _Angry_. You left us, and I understand that you’re sorry, and that it was the locket, but me and Harry, we’ve given up things as well. Yet you acted selfishly, and it was pure luck you weren’t caught. You risked having Death Eaters or Snatchers following you, you could have led them directly to your family, to the Order, dooming them, or even led them back to us. You could have been caught and tortured and You-Know-Who could have discovered that we know about the Horcruxes, he could have had your mind read and taken out every single secret’ she said, crossing her arms on her chest and lowering her voice once she realised that she was almost southing, making Ron flinch and Harry and Malfoy turn to look at them.

‘I’m…’

‘If you say I’m sorry one more time, Ronald Weasley, I will hex you. I want you to tell me you’ll never do anything like that again, that you understand that you’re on the list of Undesirables because you have information about Harry that could turn this war in You-Know-Who’s favour if they get a hold of you. I want you to say you understand and I want you to show me that you mean it, because as things stand I’m more inclined in trusting Malfoy than trusting you. At least I know what will make him turn on us.’ her last words seemed to hit Ron as if she’d slapped him in the face.

‘I understand. I’ll try and do better, I promise, Mione’ Ron exclaimed, his hands on her arms, holding her tight before he hugged her.

It should have been comforting hugging Ron, it was all she’d dreamed about in sixth year, his undivided attention and affection. Instead it gave her only the barest hints of it. Hermione wondered why she felt that why, why all of a sudden, comfort seemed to come only when she was having constructive conversations with Malfoy about magic, when she sat next to him to get work done. It gave her hope, because when she and Malfoy talked, it felt like she had power, knowledge, she felt a little less like an eighteen year old trying to survive a war. Ron, on the other hand, had become an unexpected source of stress. That didn’t mean she didn’t love him and Harry, it didn’t mean she wouldn’t have done everything she could to keep them safe, but it was a change nonetheless, something that she couldn’t ignore no matter how much she wished to.

She patted him twice on the shoulder, and Ron let her go to run off to Harry with a big smile on his face. Only Malfoy seemed to see her displeased expression. He was still sitting near the fire, making small cuts on the out of season chestnuts they’d gathered after she had spelled a tree to give fruits. A kind of elemental magic that, according to Malfoy, bordered on the dark.

She needed to talk to him, she needed their conversations, his help, and he still had to explain to her in detail how a purifying ritual worked. She walked back towards the tent with certainty, knowing what she had to do.

* * *

He’d tried not to watch the argument between Granger and Weasley, yet he couldn’t help it. Once again, he found himself wondering how thick Potter and Weasley were for not noticing that despite Weasley’s smile, Granger hadn’t given him a full pardon, there was still an edge of anger to her expression, her lips pressed in a thin line. When she started to walk back towards them, Draco had almost been afraid she was about to take out her anger on him, instead, surprising him, she took out his wand from her purse and handed it to him.

He looked at his wand and then at her, questioning. What did she want? A duel? Give him a fair chance before she killed him?

‘It’s Horcruxes’ she said simply, and Draco looked at her even _more_ confused until both Potter and Weasley screamed behind him.

‘Hermione!’

‘What we’re looking for, they’re called Horcruxes. You-Know-Who split his soul into them, to live forever. That’s how he survived. If we destroy them, we can end this, _him_ ’ Granger added looking him in the eyes, hers almost shining like melted caramel in the sunset.

Draco didn’t know how to react to that sudden show of trust, to the information she just shared and how important it was, how it changed _everything_ , the fact that maybe they had a good chance at ending things.

‘I suppose there’s seven of them’ was all he could manage to say, slowly taking back his wand with feather like touches, afraid it could be yanked away at any moment. Merlin, he’d missed his wand.

‘What makes you think that?’ she asked cocking her head, still looking down at him.

‘Seven is the most powerful magical number, at least for Western Wizarding societies. The Dark Lord wants immortality and power, he could have tried to achieve one while also achieving the other. I suppose these Horcruxes were the objects he gave to my father and Bellatrix?’

He didn’t really need her to confirm it, but when she did his heart sank anyway. His father had gotten himself into something he definitely didn’t understand. Had pureblood families thought the Dark Lord could be like a Trojan horse they could use to spread their ideals? It looked like the opposite had happened, the Dark Lord using pureblood family to spread _his_ ideals, his agenda. He didn’t want to think about it, so he tried to make a sarcastic comment to deflect away from his family.

‘Since seven is the most powerful number, I suppose it makes the Weasleiette very special, or very much cursed since she had the misfortune of catching Saint Potter’s eye’

‘Hey!’ Potter and Weasley exclaimed at the same time, making him almost roll his eyes. It was so easy to rile them up.

‘Do you know something about it?’ Granger asked, hands on her hips, signalling she meant business.

Draco took some time to actually think about it, but he couldn’t remember ever reading or hearing about Horcruxes, and Granger seemed extremely disappointed by that. They ate the chestnut roasted over the fire and then, as night fell, they resumed their trek towards the new campsite chosen by Granger. It was to be another forest near the east coast of Scotland, and whilst Draco had warned them about Snatchers hunt parties inside forests, Granger had still deemed it by far the safest option for them. He was wondering if he could convince her to give him some time to make the new campsite unplottable now that he had his wand back when he suddenly remembered a story he’d read in a book when he was very little.

‘I’ve never heard of Horcruxes but… I did read a story about soul magic’ he said and Granger stopped in her tracks, almost bumping into him.

‘A story?’ her attention completely focused on him instead of the map in her hands. Potter and Weasley seemed curious as well.

‘A story I once came across as a child’ he confirmed, ’it was a tragic love story of sort. Once upon a time, a princess fell in love with a prince from an enemy kingdom, and when her family discovered they met under a willow three at midnight, they cursed the prince turning him into a tree. But the princess was stubborn, she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life heartbroken while her prince was trapped in a tree for all eternity. After all her attempts at breaking the curse were unsuccessful, she decided to try to take his soul from where it was trapped in the tree and put it into a new host, a new body. She did manage to get his soul out of the tree and into a locket she kept near her heart until a young muggle died in a farm nearby. She took his body, and as she tried to transfer the soul from the locket she realised that the man that came back wasn’t him, but a twisted version of who her lover had been, disfigured by both the curse and her extracting and moving his soul. Overcome by grief she travelled with him back to the willow under which they used to meet, where his body transfigured into a tree still was, and burned herself alive while holding on to him, freeing both of them in a fire that lasted for four nights and three days.’

‘A fire that big… could only be Fendyfire’ said Weasley, one of the few smart observations Draco had ever heard him make.

‘Probably’ Draco agreed, ‘but it’s a story.’

Granger looked troubled by it and Draco wondered why. Was she thinking about soul splitting? He didn’t know much about it, he doubted many did. He found himself walking at the front with her whilst Potter and Weasley chatted a few steps behind her, and he was about to ask about letting him make the campsite unplottable when she spoke first.

‘I’m sorry for the other day. I didn’t mean it, you don’t deserve what happened to you, and you’re not like your father.’

To say that he was shocked would have been an understatement. Warmth spread through his chest, something he couldn’t remember feeling in a a very long time. Draco looked everywhere but at her.

‘We were both angry and mean. I have… much to apologise about anyway’ he conceded, but she didn’t seem satisfied by his answer.

‘You were already… sensible on the topic, and I insisted. I shouldn’t have.’

‘It’s fine, Granger, let it go.’

‘But we work well, together, don’t we? You can see it too, right?’ she was suddenly so eager, her eyes shining under the moonlight, and he couldn’t understand why he was so anxious to calm her, why she was so desperate to reach out to him.

‘We do, we work well together’ he agreed, swallowing, not really knowing what to say when her eyes were on him like that.

‘We should talk more about the Horcruxes and the effects of dark magic on the soul. I will bring you up to speed on what I’ve found once we’re settled’ she said taking her eyes off him and back to the map.

She almost tripped on a raised root and Draco steadied her with a hand on the small of her back before she could fall. She was warm under his hand. He remembered her being refreshingly cold from when he was still feverish, and the thought made him move his hand away immediately, as if burned. He certainly imagined the blush on her cheeks, it was probably because of the embarrassment created by her clumsiness.

‘If you give me an hour, I can make the campsite unplottable, then we can raise the wards. We can stay longer that way, apparating right in and out if needed’ he said looking away.

‘Yeah, that’s a good idea’ her voice was almost a whisper, and Draco tried to neatly organise his thoughts about her into a box, putting them away behind a tall, thick wall. It didn’t seem to work, it was probably because he wasn’t accustomed to collaborate in such a way with anyone. Even Theo used to get tired of his ramblings about magic, but not Granger. They complimented each other, and it was as scary as it was reinvigorating, the fact that he could have listened to her talk about Transfiguration theory the whole day.

She was a good ally, a bright witch, and it was nice to talk about something that wasn’t related to his mistakes, the war. That was all.

* * *

They had just reached the new campsite location, Harry and Ron were about to raise the tent while Malfoy ran through the steps to make the location unplottable in his mind when they heard it: a werwolf howl rippling through the forest, birds taking flight in the early light of dawn. Hermione recognised the sound because they’d heard it before, in third year, when they had seen professor Lupin transform.

Something shifted in Malfoy’s face, she merely had a second to see the fear before he occluded so hard his eyes looked empty and dead. It made her sad and angry, it made her wonder what had happened to warrant such a reaction, but before she could say something about it he was already speaking.

‘We should leave.’

‘We’re already here, lets just raise the wards immediately, we’ll be more protected, we cannot outrun a werwolf anyway’ Harry said, and before Hermione could point out that Malfoy had hands on experience with werewolves that were very much different from Lupin, Ron agreed with him, effectively closing the argument. It wasn’t a bad argument, it was better to be behind wards with a werwolf so close to them.

‘It will probably leave in a couple of hours as the sun rises, right?’ she asked, trying to ease Malfoy and his anxiety.

Malfoy’s eyes were on her, but they were so empty she couldn’t hide her displeasure. He just nodded and started to raise the wards whilst she reinforced them with the blood runes he’d showed her.

They were able to rest and eat, and didn’t hear another howl the whole day, but as Malfoy had been reluctant to leave the wards for another couple of days at the least, Hermione had insisted they needed to as they couldn’t be without fresh water. She wasn’t going to risk going out at night, but before sunset, she accompanied Harry to the stream nearby, and while he filled their bottles she went to check out a bush that seemed to have dittany grow underneath it. Hermione was crunched on the ground, hands under the bush tying to reach the herb when she heard leaves crunching behind her, the unmistakable sound of someone coming closer, fear turning her blood cold in her veins.

Harry had left her alone after she promised she’d be quick, she had insisted she would be fine and now… it wasn’t Harry behind her, it wasn’t Ron, and it wasn’t even Malfoy. She knew how each other walked, moved, and it wasn’t them.

How could she be so foolish? How could she make such a mistake after having been careful for so long?

‘Well… What do we have here?’ asked a voice she’d heard before, a voice that made her shiver in fear down to her bones.

She shoot up, turning around with her wand in hand, finding Greyback not thirty feet away from her, an evil smile on his face as he licked his lips. Malfoy had warned her about what he did, how he liked to play with his food, how Voldemort allowed him to be as ruthless as he wanted, and Hermione knew she was at a disadvantage. He was always half turned, which meant he was stronger, faster, deadlier, and a simple stunning spell wouldn’t have worked on him, a bombarda could have knocked him out for a couple of minutes, but that was all true assuming she could cast the spell before he jumped on her. She couldn’t even risk trying a non-verbal spell, they could fail, they could come out too weak, and she had one chance, _maybe_.

She took a deep breath as Greyback moved towards her, one step, then another, a smile on his face that showed his fangs, twisting her stomach. Hermione tried not to think about where Harry, Ron and Malfoy were, if they could come in time, maybe if she screamed…

It took her a split second to plan, hoping it was enough to distract him, to give her that split second that could mean the difference between survival and death. She gave her most high-pitched scream, and then before she was left without air in her lungs she screamed: ‘bombarda.’

She turned around without even checking if she hit him, she just ran away from the campsite. She couldn’t risk exposing the others. _She couldn’t_.

She had maybe a couple of minutes before she felt the air shift around her. He was already catching up, grunting, and Hermione pointed her wand behind her shoulder, shouting another bombarda without even turning or breaking her run, hopefully hitting him in his face. And she knew she _did_ hit him because she distinctly heard him grunt in pain behind her. She just hadn’t thought that, while falling, he would reach for her anyway, taking hold of one of her ankles and making her fall and tumble to the ground.

The moment Hermione felt her wand slip from her fingers she knew it was over. She tried to be brave, she tried to summon her wand non verbally, but Greyback was on his feet before her, stepping on it, breaking itand with it all her hopes for survival. His eyes were moving up and down her body making her shiver in fear and disgust. Grayback was going to tear her apart, she knew from the look in his eyes, from the disgusting way he liked his lips, and all she could think about was that she didn’t want to die like _that_ , in terrible pain while being torn apart by a monster.

‘ _Feisty_ ’ he said licking his lips, ‘I bet you’re going to taste delicious, girl’

Hermione panicked. She thought of her parents, she thought about Harry and Ron, she wondered if maybe Malfoy would stay and help Harry anyway, if he could figure out the key to destroying the Horcruxes once she was gone… it was unbelievable that her last thoughts would be about _him_ , about how he’d tried to warn her. She could already see the guilt on his and Harry’s face, they would feel so responsible. She didn’t want them to suffer. She didn’t want to die in such a horrible way.

Grayback kept advancing towards her, and Hermione crawled back, eyes on him, trying desperately to determine if she could run, if she could force herself to have one of those outburst of accidental magic she’d read so much about, if it could be enough. She could hear Harry and Ron shouting for her in the distance, but they were still too far. All she wanted to do was to shout at them to run back inside the wards, they didn’t have to die as well because of her stupidity. She hoped Malfoy would stun them and take them back, she hoped he wouldn’t hate her too much for dying in what he would probably consider a stupid way. She was about to scream at Harry and Ron to stay back, but then Grayback crunched on his knees, preparing to jump on her, and she started to shake, her voice dying in her throat and…

‘ _Sectumsempra_ ’

Grayback fell on ground, a crack reverberating in the silence of the woods and so, so much blood sprouting form his body Hermione could barely make sense of the fact that there was someone underneath it. But before she could observe in more excruciating detail what a Sectumsempra used by someone who _wanted_ to do real harm could do, Malfoy’s voice made it through the thick fog of fear and confusion that made her ears ring.

‘Don’t look at him. Look at me. I said, _look at me, Granger_ ’ his voice was firmer that she’d ever hear it, and her eyes snapped to him.

He was standing behind the pile of bloody remains that had once been Grayback, wand in one hand and the other fisted at his side. Dressed in all black, he stood out against the white of the snow covered forest, his platinum hair curled in soft waves now that it wasn’t slicked back. Her mind somehow fixed on the fact that since she’d given him his wand back he’d spelled the few clothes his mother had left for him to fit perfectly to his body. He looked better, now that instead of being tortured regularly, he ate regularly.

Malfoy was breathing deeply, and she realised that he was occluding completely, his eyes fixed on her, not a single crack on his walls of pure silver. She’d thought she was about to die, she’d thought she was about to condemn Harry and Ron to die as well because they’d tried to reach her, sinking whatever hope the Order had of winning. Panic was rising in her while she started to process what had almost happened, angry at her own helplessness, and she just wanted to know what Malfoy was thinking, what was he hiding. She couldn’t even believe that he’d just killed Grayback _for her_. She just wanted… she wanted… she didn’t even know what she wanted, but could he…? Come closer? Could…

She didn’t even realise Harry and Ron had reached them, her eyes remained on Malfoy even while Harry hugged her, his hands on her making sure she was alright while Ron thrusted before her eyes her broken wand. Hermione took it in her hands but remained down where she was on the ground even while Harry and Ron argued with Malfoy, looking over Greyback’s corpse, half thanking him and half scolding him for killing someone with dark magic.

_For her_ , Hermione repeated to herself, still incapable to wrap her mind around it.

‘Thank you’ she said once she was finally able to stand up, her voice silencing both Harry and Ron’s.

His eyes had never moved away from her as well, but after she spoke, he scoffed and set fire to Greyback’s remains before walking away. She watched him carefully before turning her back to him as well, walking back to the tent and closing herself inside the bathroom.

She cried until she had no more tears.

* * *

It was very difficult to practice dark magic with a unicorn hair as a core, Granger had been right.

Yet, there had been absolutely no resistance when the Sectumsempra slipped from his lips, his magic travelling through the wand and reducing Greyback to bloody remains before he could hurt Granger. Draco thanked his foresight for going back outside looking for her when Potter came back with the water alone, he’d arrived just seconds before she screamed and attacked Greyback only to run in the direction opposite to the tent, ever the martyr.

He had hated his out of shape body when he struggled to keep up with her, he was still recovering from months of little eating and too much torture, and it had resulted in her wand being broken, in him being almost too late. The only thing he was thankful for was the fact that his Occlumency had remained strong, keeping the panic and the anxiety at bay, yet he couldn’t get Granger’s terrorised gaze out of his mind.

Draco spent at least three hours checking the area around the campsite, trying to understand if Greyback had been alone, maybe travelling towards a pack, or if he had been with Snatchers. Once he found no one he set warning spells on his way back, then at the campsite he further reinforced the wards. They would have to move, he’d burned and transfigured Greyback remains, but someone would come and look for him sooner or later, the Dark Lord’s mad dog going missing wasn’t going to go unnoticed.

The first thing he did when he was back in the tent was to search for Granger’s purse. Judging by Weasley’s hoovering near the bathroom door, he guessed she was still inside, trying to calm herself. But he tried to be rational, to follow the list he had made in his mind in order to calm himself, keep the panic at bay and his Occlumency intact.

‘What are you doing?’ asked Potter trying to take the purse away from him.

‘Her wand is broken and Ollivander was captured by the Dark Lord. She must have a book about wand making in here, or have you not even thought about that?’ he was angry in his mind, but Occlumency allowed his voice to come out evenly.

Potter left the purse go, looking as guilty as ever, and Draco searched inside for a couple of minutes before he simply accio’d the book. It flew out of the purse and into his hand, and he started to look at the index with Potter’s eyes still fixed on him.

‘Was it necessary?’ he asked, and Draco glared at him openly this time.

‘Did you want me to let her die?’

‘No! But…’

‘You can’t stun a werwolf, Potter, you wouldn’t have been able to stop him with an expelliarmus. Granger knew this, her bombarda barely kept him down for a couple of minutes while she run in the opposite direction from the campsite so you wouldn’t be discovered.’

Potter flinched at that, sinking down on Granger’s cot and taking his head in his hand.

‘I know, I know, I just… I don’t want to be like him’ he muttered, and Draco, unfortunately, knew exactly who he was talking about. He was more acquainted with Potter’s dreams that he cared to admit.

‘You’re not’ Draco said wishing he would shut up for long enough for him to read the damn index and find a spell to fix Granger’s wand. They were at war, they had almost ben discovered, Granger had been attacked, and Granger couldn’t remain without a functioning wand.

Draco asked Potter to fetch him the wand, hoping that feeling useful would make him sulk a little less, and then he observed the damage carefully, realising with a relived sigh that the core of the wand was still intact. The book said that was a good thing. They wouldn’t need to hunt for a new wand or the extremely rare materials needed for a new core.

He read the paragraph that detailed the spell to repair the damage ten times before he attempted it. The wood slowly melted back together where it had snapped, the little vines carved on the surface of her wand moving as if they were growing until they settled into a new pattern. Once he was done, Draco felt breathless, lightheaded. He’d used too much magic after just getting his wand back not even a day before, and it was with embarrassment that he realised Potter had an arm around him, helping him to stand up.

‘Malfoy, are you alright?’ Potter was worried, panic in his eyes while Weasley was as tense as Draco had ever seen him.

‘I’m fine’ he mumbled sitting down on the ground, missing the cot by a good foot ‘just overdid it a bit’.

He closed his eyes for a moment, or an hour, he really couldn’t tell, until he felt Potter’s hand on his shoulder.

‘Hermione is asking about you.’

Draco stood up trying to blink away the fatigue, taking her newly repaired wand in his hand. Weasley looked displeased at the fact that Granger wanted him to go inside the small bathroom in which she’d barricaded herself instead of him, but he didn’t smirk this time, he just went in and closed the door behind him.

She was waiting for him, immediately scanning his body for any injuries, her eyes were red and puffed, meaning she’d cried for a long time, worried her lips so much she drew blood. It unsettled him to see her like that.

‘I repaired your wand. I don’t know if I did alright, I’ve never done it before, I just followed the instruction on the book you had about it…’ he said looking down at the wand in his hand, he didn’t really want to look at her, not when seeing her in such a state moved something inside him he could not control or repress.

‘Did you split your soul?’ she asked interrupting him, and Draco had to look at her when she said it, fresh tears in her eyes, her voice broken.

He furrowed his brow, looking at her confused. He was suddenly aware that they were very close in the small bathroom, her clothes were still dirty, and he felt the urge to, to…

Everything was shut down behind a thick wall.

‘Granger, only the Avada splits the soul.’

‘No, the theory says that killing, a-and dark magic…’

‘Dark magic builds up inside someone’s system, and can turn poisonous, yes, but it’s like wand theory, some wizards and witches are more resistant to it than others. The Sectumsempra is dark magic but I just underwent a purifying ritual and it’s not meant to kill…’

‘He died, he…’ she was hiccupping, clearly struggling to breath, ‘you split your soul for me because I was stupid and careless…’

Draco took a step forward and then held her face in his hands, carefully, as if he was handling something precious, not ever realising the care he was putting into it, what he had done.

‘Granger, my soul is _fine_ ’ he said, his eyes trapped in her caramel ones, ‘the Sectumsempra is dark magic, but it’s not an unforgivable, and of the unforgivables only the Avada splits the soul of a wizard or a witch, because it’s the direct intention to kill. I just wanted to stop him from hurting you, he died as a side effect of the curse because the Sectumsepra opens wounds almost impossible to cauterise and creates great blood loss. That’s it. You were unlucky, I repaired your wand. We’ll move, you’re fine’ he said trying to calm her like she’d calmed him, his hand moving to her forehead, brushing away stray curls from her face.

'If you’re worried I can brew wolfsbane. Breathe, Granger, focus on the facts, breathe.’

She looked into his eyes a moment longer before she started to breathe easy again, her hands fisting the front of his shit.

‘I’m sorry I-I… I have been under so much pressure and I thought I ruined everything after being so careful for so long’ she mumbled, closing her eyes and trying to stop the tears.

There was something inside him, like a knot tightening the more she cried, it made his hands itch to do something. Instead he moved away, he just took her her hand and thrusted her wand in it.

‘Try it. If something feels weird I can try fix it again’ he said, taking a step back, but the space was too small.

She dried her tears with the back of her hand, _her tears of worry for his soul_ , and just the thought made his head spin. How did they even ended up in such a situation?

‘Why did you do that?’ she asked, looking at him, open and honest more than he’d ever seen her. She usually looked at Potter and Weasley like that, and now she was looking at him. It was too much, it was overwhelming, and he didn’t understand any of it. He didn’t want it.

Draco occluded so hard and so fast, that after having used so much magic in a day after having gone without it for almost a month it gave him an instant splitting headache that made him flinch in pain.

‘It was purely tactical, don’t let it go to your head, Granger. We both know that without you Potter and Weasley wouldn’t be able to find their own heads’ his voice was even, controlled, and Draco felt like he was taking back something important.

She felt it too, and something hardened behind her eyes, anger that overtook the sadness, the fear, the shock of the day, something that made her press her lips in a thin line, eyes glaring at him and knuckles white on the hand that held the wand.

Draco left the bathroom and all but ran to his cot, taking a potion for the pain and a dreamless sleep potion to sleep, ignoring Potter’s eyes on him, Weasley fussing over Granger. He just wanted to forget the whole day, never think again about the emotions he had tried to bury and ignore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 'Look at me' sentence by Draco after the sectumsempra is shamelessly taken from that one scene in Shadow and Bone, couldn't resist adding it because I love the Darkling (but I hated how the series ended, just like I didn't like how HP ended 😩), but it's the first and last one of such quotes.


	7. The Crossroad

He trusted Draco Malfoy.

Harry had never thought he would ever utter those words out loud, yet he’d just spent a good hour trying to convince Ron of the fact. If it hadn’t been for him, Hermione would have died. He’d repaired her wand flawlessly and made her wolfsbane just to be sure. He’d killed Greyback without hesitation, and all Harry could think about was if he could do the same. If when the time to fight came he would be able to do what was needed while keeping the careful balance required to save his friends without falling into Voldemort’s darkness. It was frustrating and terrifying that he probably wouldn’t know until he was in the thick of it.

Once again he found himself thinking back to the last conversation he had with Ginny the morning of Fleur and Bill’s wedding, about how she told him she was going back to Hogwarts to protect the other students, how she would do _everything_ to protect them, and how she would never love him less for doing the same. Yet that knowledge didn’t help one bit, somehow it made him feel worse.

‘Do you not think love conquers all? That love is more powerful than dark magic?’ he asked.

Malfoy was bent over his cauldron, stirring carefully and dropping ingredients in from time to time. It was rare to see him brew outside since brewing required a more controlled environment, but he and Hermione had been silently glaring at one another and fighting since Greyback’s attack, Harry couldn’t even begin to fathom why, didn’t even want to ask. Malfoy just pretended to prefer to stay outside while she buried herself in research inside the tent. Something was going on between them, and Harry felt it was wise to let them deal with it themselves.

Malfoy… could he call him Draco? They could be friends now, after all. They were. A tenuous kind of friendship. Allied-ship.

Draco scowled at the potion in the cauldron, almost sensing his friendly thoughts of him, the pungent smell of dittany essence making Harry sneeze. He wondered why he kept having these kind of deep and honest conversations with Draco Malfoy of all people. Even if Harry now knew his motivations, his thoughts on what had happened, Draco still remained an enigma for him, someone full of surprises and contradictions. They still didn’t understand one other, he and Draco, but they seemed to be able to meet halfway in short discussions about life, magic and morality that he wouldn’t have ever thought he could have with him.

‘Love isn’t always a pure and pretty emotion. People kill for love, Potter. People cast Avada thinking about the person they love.’

He was occluding, Harry could tell now by his tone, by how flat his voice was. He almost missed the Draco he used to know, found himself longing for a sneer or a mean comment every couple of days, just to have a taste of that past that had seemed so easy to navigate through. But it hadn’t been easy, nothing had ever been.

‘You’re sure about that?’ he insisted, he could hear Hermione huffing annoyed at Ron inside the tent and he tried to ignore the fear that sometimes ate him alive at night, the fear that they might survive the war but that their friendship as a trio wouldn’t, as if Voldemort could take that with him if Harry managed to send him to his grave in one last act of spite.

‘You think your father and godfather never killed anyone? You think they didn’t think of you, your mother, when they did? War is always ugly, it makes everyone do terrible things’ said Draco, his hair was curlier than Harry had ever imagined it could be now that he didn’t slick it back, it was definitely something he took from the Black side of the family as it resembled the gentle waves of Sirius’s hair, platinum instead of black. Harry wondered if, like many other things, Draco had insisted in slicking it back to resemble more closely his father.

Despite the lack of hair products, and despite the odourless medical shampoo shared among the four of them, Draco’s hair still looked batter than his own messy mop. Harry would have deflected if he could have found the strength to do so, maybe asked about charms for his hair, but he felt too sick at Draco’s words, knowing that he was probably right. There were bad faith actors on both sides, good and bad choices on both sides, and it made everything more and more complicated. Even if they destroyed the Horcruxes, what would happen once Voldemort died? Harry found himself thinking more and more about it, disillusioned, afraid it would all be for nothing, afraid he would never be free. He would always be the Chosen One, whatever that would come to mean in years to come, and Draco would always be the son of a Death Eater, or the youngest Death Eater who almost killed Dumbledore, breached Hogwarts’ wards… was he angry too, under all that Occlumency? About the choices they forced him into, the roles they were made to play?

‘Do you think it will ever end?’ he asked Draco, almost timidly, he’d never asked something like this to anyone, not Ron, not Ginny, not Hermione, not even Dumbledore.

‘I don’t know’ Draco finally looked up at him, his eyes a flat grey instead of silver ‘we can just do what we can with what we have, I suppose’

Harry sighed, Draco turned back to his distilled dittany.

He asked for another dreamless sleep potion, he didn’t want any nightmares, reality was more than enough at the moment.

* * *

She didn’t know why she was angry, and Hermione hated not knowing things. She especially hated not being able to understand herself, why, after having been attacked, the first thing she’d worried about was Malfoy almost breaking a piece of his soul for her, because she’d been an idiot staying outside on her own even when he’d warned her not to. Because she almost died and he…

He’d been… her mind kept going back to their trek during the night, his hand on the small on her back to steady her, the way he hadn’t thought her needy when she asked for confirmation from him that they were, indeed, a good team. And then he came for her, he raised more wards, fixed her wand, his hands warm on her cheeks, thumbs moving so gently underneath her eyes, drying away the tears… Hermione tossed and turned on the small cot, the memory of the emotional whiplash she experienced when he occluded and stepped away still fresh in her mind. Why was he always like that? Why was he always hiding?

_Coward_.

She could hear Harry and Ron chat outside, Malfoy’s cauldron bubbling from time to time. He kept brewing outside, avoiding her, even if it meant having to stay with Harry and Ron. Which was absurd, he was _Malfoy_. It couldn’t last long, yet a week had already passed, and Hermione didn’t even know where to begin. The anger securely anchored somewhere deep inside her.

She ended up falling asleep with a frown on her face, and she woke up with a headache already building behind her eyes, slowing down her research, the research Malfoy was suppose to help her with. Instead, he was on the opposite side of the tent, carefully crafting an inventory of the ingredients they had, how long they would last, what did they need to look for. He’d taken possession of all her potions book, kept studying them, and said absolutely nothing more about Horcruxes even though Harry had told her he and Ron had brought him up to speed with what they’d discovered, even with their hypothesis about Dumbledore’s wand being the Elder Wand. Apparently the only reaction he’d given had been a deep sigh when Harry had explained Dumbledore had given him an invisibility cloak.

It was stupid, and maybe selfish that she thought about it in those terms, but despite everything that had passed between them before the war, Malfoy seemed to be the only person in which presence she felt like she was _enough_. She had never felt like that before. She always felt as if she wasn’t receptive enough to Ron’s feelings, she never knew enough to answer all of Harry’s question, she wasn’t enough interested in the same things the other girls in the dormitories were, she wasn’t interested in Quidditch enough for Ginny… they were her friends, and they weren’t mean, they weren’t even outright annoyed by it, but it always left her on the edge, worrying they would just forget her in a corner when everything was over, when they didn’t need her anymore.

It wasn’t like that with Malfoy. Even with his Occlumency she always felt like he was more pleased by their discussions than by the answer itself, and it was a relief and a joy, to share her thirst for knowledge, for understanding, for studying just for the pleasure of it . Now that he’d left behind the hate, she had been surprised to see how he respected her opinion, how he carefully evaluated her words, not only accepting as a given fact what she said, but also appreciating the reasoning behind it. Her opinion had rarely felt her own with Harry and Ron, she’d allowed herself to become a tool for them to weight in their choices, equipping them with the knowledge they lacked.

As weird as it sounded even in her head, he also looked out for her. She’d never been looked after in such a way since before leaving for Hogwarts at eleven, at which point she had to learn to step up and take care of herself. She knew now he’d talked to Harry about helping out, she knew he made her tea sometimes when he made a cup for himself, or left potions for the pain near her cot when her period came, noticing the habit she had to bring a hand to her stomach twisting her clothes as if it could help with the cramps. She didn’t know what it meant, she didn’t think it could mean anything behind the tenuous alliance they’d developed, behind the mutual understanding of their surprising compatibility as allies and teammates. He was Draco Malfoy, she was Hermione Granger. They had vastly different motivations, ideas, about the war and how to end it. Their alliance was a twist of fate, a simple, unexpected encounter at the crossroad that didn’t turn out as ugly as it could have.

_Still_.

Hermione found herself standing in front of him before she could realise she had moved. He looked up from his potion book, aware of her presence and clearly displeased at her for taking away the light necessary for his reading.

‘I saw a patch of goosegrass not far, we should go get some’ she said, and suddenly his silver eyes were on her, making something inside of her move and grow after the distance they’d kept for more than a week.

They didn’t need goosegrass, he knew it and she knew it. Yet he closed the book and stood up anyway, following her outside.

‘We’re going to get some ingredients, we’ll be back soon’ she said to Harry and Ron.

‘Don’t go too far’ Ron said after nodding, sending his best warning look at Malfoy, who barely even looked at him, neutral expression forever on his face because of his Occlumency.

Hermione really, _really_ wanted to smack that expression off his face, just like she’d done in third year, but harder this time. She hated how he walked in silence, how he kept sending around small non-verbal wandless detecting spells even if she’d given him his wand back.

‘Are we gonna talk about it?’ she asked in the end.

They were still far north, they’d apparated all the way to the other side of Scotland after Greyback’s attack, but the snow was slowly beginning to melt, a constant drip from branches to the ground, patches of green and brown mud among the white in the warming February air. Spring was upon them, almost a year since the war had begun, and she wondered how many more months they would have to spend in hiding, how many more would taste bittersweet, the childish excitement for summer forever lost, replaced with the anxieties of war.

‘I’ve found some mentions of Manticore venom being capable of breaking wards and through curses. There are some tales of it being used back in the middle ages, a goblin’s silver blade dripped in it could be used to slice your way through wards, although it doesn’t specify if it could cut through only warding spells or also blood wards. From what I’ve gathered, some dark beasts species seem to have venom with extremely corrosive properties which only goblin’s silver can resist, as it absorbs everything that can make it more powerful. So as unicorns’ hairs make great wand cores perfect for something as pure in intentions as healing, and phoenix’s feathers core makes for great battle wands, goblin’s silver seems to be perfect for breaking wards and curses when dripped in venom. A knowledge not widely shared for obvious reasons. Perhaps the Basilisk venom acts much like the Manticore. They are ancient beasts, their venom corrosive even to objects protected by dark magic.’

It wasn’t what she asked, he knew, and he’d deflected by giving her something to think about. It made her even more angry, but Malfoy just kept walking by her side like nothing was amiss, as if he hadn’t just revealed that he might have found out the reason why Horcruxes were vulnerable to Basilisk venom.

‘As much as I appreciate the research, that it’s not what I asked’ she said, one hand clenching and unclenching at her side, the other white knuckled for how tight she held her wand.

‘What is there to talk about?’ he said without even turning towards her, his tone so flat, so inexpressive, it made her anger threaten to overflow.

‘ _Malfoy_ ’ she warned him.

He didn’t seem worried by that, he simply kept walking even after she stopped, until he noticed she wasn’t bending to pick up ingredients. At _that_ he stilled, looking at her with empty eyes, hidden behind walls that made his eyes a dull grey when they had once been a shining silver.

‘I overstepped, I apologise. You were in shock because of the attack, I don’t have experience in dealing with such things’ his tone was _still_ flat, he was looking at her and yet he wasn’t, and she should have appreciated the logical explanation. Yet it wasn’t enough, a part of her knew that there was more, and she resented the way he hid himself away. She resented how much she longed for what comfort he could offer her with their alliance, the small pleasure of reaching for knowledge with him while the horrors of war loomed over their heads, threatening to crush them at any moment.

She looked at him in silence, but he said nothing more, he just stared right back at her, either missing her anger or being so far behind his walls he couldn’t see it. It was that, in the end, what made it overflow.

They were far enough from the campsite that Harry and Ron wouldn’t have heard, she knew, and in a moment she was raising her wand, a non-verbal jinx aimed straight at him. He moved faster than she could have predicted, and he just gave her a brief disbelieving look before spells were flying from his wand as well.

They ran farther away from the campsite, hiding behind trees to avoid the non-verbal spells they were firing at the each other, the melting snow under their feet becoming slippery until it turned into a slush of water and mud that caked their boots and pants. They never spoke as they avoided spell after spell while firing others, out of breath, getting closer only to then jump feet apart, until one of them fell, and Hermione couldn’t say who reached for who, dragging the other down with them. They didn’t even take a moment to assess the situation, they just started to roll and fight on the ground, trying to stop one another from reaching for the wands that had slipped from their hands. Hermione loved how she could finally see the fire return to Malfoy’s eyes, the annoyance, the anger, the confusion, all of it rolled into a myriad of expressions he’d tried so hard to hide from everyone, _her_.

When she pulled his hair, Malfoy groaned and scrunched his nose just like he did in school before calling her a mudblood, but this time he just cursed under his breath, his hands on her waist squeezing so hard she was sure she would find bruises the next day, trying to get her off him. He pulled her hair as well, and as she whimpered at the sharp pain he managed to roll them around once more, until he was on top of her. She didn’t know if it was because they both had their hands in each other’s hair, constantly pulling, but a moment she tried to break free by pushing herself up and the other his mouth was crashing on hers.

They remained still for a moment, their lips just touching before she angrily pushed her mouth harder against him, biting his lower lip, while he retaliated by pulling her hair once more, the pinch of pain making her mouth open against his, allowing his tongue to slip in. Then Hermione was grabbing his forearm, pushing down with her fingers on the scar left by the Dark Mark where she knew it still hurt, moaning when his tongue met hers, when he bit her as hard as she’d bitten him.

His hand was still fisted in her hair, moving her like he wanted to, and the more they continued, the less she fought, concentrating on the feeling of his mouth against hers, their tongue dancing against one another until she made him moan, too, the sound making her head spin. Draco’s hands slowly moved to her thighs, his hold so firm she was certain he would leave bruises there as well, her legs circling his waist, her hips moving up to meet his creating a delicious friction when he moved _just_ …

‘Hermione?!’ Ron’s voice was echoing in the forest, making them jump apart in a second.

They scrambled to get up, and when she finally looked at him her eyes went wide with shock. There was blood on Malfoy’s lips, dripping on his pointy chin, and Hermione could taste blood on hers too. They were covered in mud, their clothes ruined, hair a disaster…

They looked liked they’d just rolled around on in a mud pit, which they sort of _did_ because… because…

Hermione’s mind was blank, she couldn’t even think. Why did she… or had he been the one to…?

In an unusual display of desperation, Hermione tried to remind herself to hate him. She tried to remember his sneer when he called her a mudblood, the way he looked at her in class after she answered correctly before he tried to outdo her… but then she remembered his eyes after the sectumsempra, the tired yet kind gaze he gave her when she insisted to stay up late and do more research instead of sleeping.

Malfoy moved first. He carefully stepped in front of her, as if afraid she would take out her wand and curse him, his eyes skimming over her before he once again took her face in his hands as if it was something delicate, as if he hadn’t just pulled her hair repeatedly, left bruises all over her. She could still feel strands of his hair between her fingers, the small locks she’d pulled away with force, the softness of it both surprising and endearing. He cleaned the blood on her lips with the sleeve of his jumper before his hands fall away. He wiped the blood from his face next with the back of his hand, eyes never leaving hers.

Malfoy’s lips were a deep red, his skin pale under the grey sky, the imprint of her teeth still visible on the corner of his mouth. Something changed in his eyes, Occlumency rising once again, and he started to walk back towards the campsite without looking back at her to her once. The more he occluded, the more his back and shoulders became stiff while Hermione struggled not to shake, not to look as shellshocked as she felt, while she tried not to think about the disappointment she’d felt when they had jumped apart, immediately followed by the relief that flooded her when he’d reached for her again, and the utter shock she still felt for the whole of it, for her own feelings and actions.

It was wrong.

What she’d done was wrong. Even if they were allies they were still enemies.

‘What happened?’ Harry asked looking over them with his hands in his hair, eyes wide behind his glasses, probably thinking he hadn’t heard them fight and left them to fend for themselves alone.

‘I tripped, Malfoy tried to steady me but instead we both fell down a small hill. We’re fine’ her voice was steadier than she had hoped for, and Malfoy was looking at her in a way she couldn’t decipher, although it was surprisingly reassuring that he still wasn’t completely buried behind his walls. She almost wanted to smirk satisfied at the fact that she’d shaken him so much.

She shouldn’t have. She shouldn’t have taken pleasure in destroying the walls he had worked so hard create to defend himself, his defence mechanism, not after everything that had happened to him. Yet she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t help being selfish, she couldn’t help reaching for him.

‘We’re fine, just need a shower’ she said again to reassure Harry before slipping inside the tent, Malfoy following her not far behind.

Once they were inside alone, he grabbed her wrist so hard she was sure he added another bruise, moving her closer to him until they were but a breath away from each other, his eyes looking over her, trying to decipher her.

‘What was _that_?’ his voice was hard and low, a warning, trying to make her afraid. It didn’t work.

She couldn’t answer his question, she couldn’t even answer it to herself, so she found herself saying the silly little excuse that was always at the forefront of her mind.

‘We’re a good team, we can’t be a good team if you hide.’

He let her go and stepped away from her in an instant, anger now clearly showing on his face.

‘Go shower, Granger’ was all he said before turning his back to her.

Before she closed the door of the bathroom behind her, she saw him move his hands in his hair in a rare sign of exasperation.


	8. The Proposal

Was Hermione Granger trying to kill him?

Draco couldn’t think of another reason that would make her behave in such away. He had been able to excuse her after Greyback’s attack, as she’d been in shock and they’d both responded to it… _weirdly_ , stepping over boundaries they were never meant to cross. Which was to be expected, in a way, they were a good team, their alliance was clearly going somewhere as his discovery about Manticore venom had shown, alongside the ample supply of potions that Potter was eager to send to the other members of the Order in some way.

It didn’t explain her anger, or better, _it did_ , she repressed so much in order to allow Weasley and Potter to lash out as much as they wanted that it wasn’t so surprising her rage came out towards him, someone to whom she had no connections. She could scream at him and throw jinxes at him and don’t feel an inch of the moral weight that such an action would have had if she performed it against her friends. Draco couldn’t see how repressing so much of her emotions by prioritising research was any different from his use of Occlumency, which she ardently hated, resenting the fact he didn’t trust them, _her_ , to show himself vulnerable. Draco had never been open about his emotions and feelings before the war and he certainly wasn’t going to start to be now just because he’d reached a tenuous alliance with his former enemies, who also happened to be a bunch of hypocrites when it came to the use of Occlumency, especially Granger.

Fucking Hermione Granger, who was either trying to kill him or drive him mad.

Draco tried and failed not to think about how much he’d liked it, biting her back, holding her firm underneath him, how it had sent sparks all over his body when she had moved her hips to meet his, her little moans still echoing in his ears driving him insane. He tried and failed to pretend not to notice how tense she was, how anxiety made her press her lips together in a thin line as she planned Weasley and Potter’s quick trek to a small muggle village to get some basic items they needed for food and hygiene.

He felt a want, a need to take, that he hadn’t felt in a very long time. He’d kissed Theo more times he could remember, fucked Pansy even though they had never been together as a couple as other people at Hogwarts had thought they were, they had just fooled around because they trusted each other enough to know that they would try and make it feel good, the both of them detesting even the possibility of having to admit to others they had no experience when it came to sex. It had also been a nice way to release tension and anxiety, even though it hadn’t lasted that long as he’d distanced himself from everyone after his father had been arrested. With the Dark Lord threatening him, it had been a conscious choice. There was nothing they could have done to help him, and Draco had tried not to drag them down with him.

There had also always been, in the back of his mind, that small seed of doubt, the one that whispered that people liked him simply because of his wealth and connections, and when that turned to ashes after his father’s arrest, he wasn’t even sure anyone really wanted to be near him. While he cared for his friends, and he was sure they cared for him too in their own way, they would have never followed him like Granger and Weasley had followed Potter, like they were ready to die _for_ him and _with_ him. Draco didn’t inspire those kind of sentiments in people’s hearts, he wasn’t sure he even wanted to. His childhood had been lonely in the empty halls of the Manor and, unlike Potter, he’d never had people fussing over him like the Weasleys. Even in the summer breaks, he rarely saw Blaise, Theo, Pansy or Daphne and her sister, or even Crabbe and Goyle, as they came over only if their family was invited while Draco was mostly relegated to the library to study to keep his grades up, or in the gardens practicing on his broom.

That was why he couldn’t understand Granger’s refusal to talk to Potter and Weasley, to show her true emotions and thoughts about the various situations that kept arising, putting her foot down only when they proposed something truly atrocious that would get them all killed if not captured and tortured. Wasn’t that what friendship was for? Unconditional support? He thought they would share everything, but that was obviously not the case. What was Granger afraid of? They wouldn’t leave her behind. Didn’t the Weasleys already consider her a part of their huge brood? Weasel future wife? Draco shuddered at the thought.

Potter was clearly versed in muggle customs, but Granger repeated several times the name and shapes of the items they would need and how to pay making sure Weasley wouldn’t behave too awkwardly and lave an impression. Draco couldn’t focus on what she was saying, his mind going back to what she’d said when they’d come back into the tent from their ‘incident’ days before. She was worried his Occlumency could be an obstacle to their teamwork, which he supposed was fair if she worried he might be hiding essential information, even though he’d already told them most of what he knew about the Manor and how the Dark Lord allowed the Death Eaters to move. She was anxious about their collaboration because it certainly was the most help she’d gotten since leaving Hogwarts, and information was power, the only one they had given their circumstances. He tried to squash his want, to warn himself against the dangers of projecting. He, unlike her, cold be left behind, already had been by those close to him. He had no friends who would risk their lives to grant his safety, and that was all his doing.

Draco stopped the train of thoughts before it spiralled down the well-known path that passed by how he deserved to be tortured and ended in wishing he wouldn’t survive the war, incapable to even imagine more years of loneliness as a pariah to Wizarding society.

He looked as Potter and Weasley prepared to leave, thinking back to his arrangement with Pansy. Could he and Granger help each other, become more relaxed with each other, less anxious? He couldn’t even begin to think about why he was so drawn to her. It might have been the fact that they matched so well intellectually, something he had never felt before, mixed with his fascination about the gentle and less-gentle power she’d held over him through the years: grinding his believes to ashes under her hands and then healing him from the consequences of his family’s choices, never letting him off the hook easily but always welcoming his acts of penance. She was infuriating and fascinating, and the more he discovered about her, the more similarities he found, the less he understood her. They were both well-versed in hiding any negative emotions from their friends, showing only what they were supposed to be, the spoiled brat and the brain of the trio, absolute light and absolute darkness. But their contradictions slipped through, like his incapacity to commit to the Dark Lord’s cause and her ever-growing curiosity for dark magic.

He could ask, but she would reject him. He was sure of it. Draco didn’t even know why he cared, had given up completely to even trying to understand what had spurred him to run to her aid. She was a thorn in his side, had always been since the first time he met her, yet he could not let go, he could not look away, even despite the confusion, even despite the pain that he was sure would come.

Potter gave him a nod before leaving, Weasley his usual look of warning, and then they were gone, leaving him alone in the tent with Granger, who was as stiff as a piece of ice, giving her back to him and refusing to talk to him.

What was the trouble in trying? Once this was over they would either be dead or go forever their separate ways.

No, if he had to be honest with himself, Draco knew exactly how it would end.

If they lost, he would die.

If they won, he would die anyway.

* * *

The moment she heard Harry and Ron leave the wards, Hermione turned away from the tent entrance and, after taking a deep breath, finally looked at Malfoy. His eyes were already on her, inscrutable under all the Occlumency, but there was tension in the air between them, the weight of what had happened, the violent kiss they’d shared, holding them apart.

She was anxious, about Harry, Ron, the war, about what little they still knew about Horcruxes, and she couldn’t even being to unpack what was happening to her, why she was so drawn to Malfoy. She’d tried to excuse it with his capacities as an ally, with the way he eased her days sharing the burden of her tasks, yet… there was more simmering in her, underneath the surface, something complicated she’d never felt before. It was nothing like the simple, straightforward attachment she’d felt for Ron.

Malfoy seemed to come to some sort of conclusion and he slowly started to advance towards her. For every step he took, Hermione took one back, until she felt the pole that was in the centre of the tent hit her back. He moved towards her exactly as she expected him to, silently, eyes carefully taking in her every movement. He’d become so cold, so different from the fractured man she’d seen in the first days after he woke up, he was enclose in a wall of Occlumency and nothing got out unless she pushed him hard. She wondered if that was how he was back at Malfoy Manor, if that was who he’d been in order to survive. It made her almost sick, the thought that he believed it necessary to behave the same way here, that even if he’d _killed_ for her, even if he was helping them, he still didn’t trust them, _her_. Hermione still couldn’t understand why that bothered her so much.

He stopped less than an inch away, looking down at her while she almost stood on her tiptoes to erase even just a little the height difference that separated their faces, her eyes darting involuntarily to his mouth.

He noticed, of course he did.

‘You’ve been more anxious than usual’ he said, his breath ticking her face.

‘I was attacked’ she murmured and he just hummed in agreement, his eyes holding hers.

Hermione thought she could see something now in the lines of his face. Uncertainty. A hint of anxiety. He wanted to ask something.

‘Would you like me to help?’ he said finally, and Hermione looked at him confused, not understanding what he meant.

He was already helping with research on the Horcuxes, the potions, the wards, the healing spells he’d shared.

‘I wondered, after what happened’ he added, and he didn’t need to specify, they both knew exactly what he was referring to, ‘you’re frustrated, angry, but you won’t release it, you’d rather bury it than risk straining what you have with Weasley and Potter. I understand.’

Her heart was beating like crazy in her chest. His eyes were shining like a winter sky while his fingers moved near her face, never touching her yet making her shiver in anticipation all the same.

‘I think… we understand each other, in a way, don’t we?’

She nodded, they did. They _did_ understand each other, even if they were opposite in almost every way.

‘We could… expand our current agreement. Taking what we need, helping each other. Since we understand.’

He moved closer, and her breast brushed against his chest. Her mind was muddled by his proximity, his scent, but she still didn’t understand. She knew what was happening to her, why her body was reacting in such a way, but she couldn’t rationalise it, acknowledge it, accept that it was because of Draco Malfoy. Still, it was like an avalanche, one piece falling and then the whole mountain seemed to be coming down, nothing could be done to stop it.

Hermione hadn’t even realised she’d nodded in agreement until his finger gently brushed a trail from her neck to the button of her jeans, stopping briefly on her left breast, pressing down gently where her nipple was, already hard. She sucked in a breath.

‘Yes?’ Malfoy asked, bending down towards her until his mouth was near her ear, his breath hot on her skin, his other hand over her head, holding onto the pole against which she was backed, caging her in. He was so close, his presence and scent intoxicating, making her head spin.

‘Yes’ Hermione said, because it made sense. It was just rational, really. No string attached. It was for the best, and she knew he knew what he was doing, although she wondered briefly if she should tell him that she wasn’t that experienced. She should be fair, if it was a mutually beneficial agreement.

It was just another thing they could help each other with. It was purely physical, like scratching an itch, like the relief that came from not doing all the work. Nothing more. A way to get it out of her system, this weird obsession she was developing, the way he monopolised her mind.

He started to leave a trail of kisses on her jaw, making her lose her breath, whilst one of his hands moved under her shirt, reaching for her breast. He stopped almost immediately and left her neck to raise his head to look at her, making her whimper in frustration.

‘What’s this?’ he asked, lightly tugging at the elastic band of her sport bra, and Hermione blushed even more, if that was possible.

There was a small smile on Malfoy’s lips, but he wasn’t mocking her, he was just curious.

‘It’s a… a sports bra, it’s muggle. It makes it easier to run, it’s more comfortable’ she tried to explain, her gaze fixed on his forearm, half disappearing under her shirt. She could feel his fingers moving over her stomach, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

‘Clever’ he said, and then his mouth was back on her neck, less delicate this time, sucking, leaving marks she would have to hide before Ron and Harry returned.

His hand pushed the sport bra up, exposing her breast, his finger immediately finding her nipple, tugging it gently and making her moan while she shivered under his touch. Her hands flew to his shoulders, holding on to him while his other hand started to unbutton her jeans, slipping inside her knickers.

He didn’t lose time, but he wasn’t careless or too rushed, allowing her moans and whimpers to guide him in what made her feel good.

‘Like this?’ he would ask, and all she could do was let out a chocked _yes_ while he cupped her cunt with his hand, his thumb moving gently over her clit before he went lower, his fingers moving over her lips making her shiver.

Hermione wished she could look at him in the eyes, to see if he was taking something for himself too, hoping that he wasn’t occluding. She wanted it to be fair, they were supposed to help each other, but he kept his mouth on her neck, then moving upwards, his teeth tugging at her earlobe, and he stopped only to ask her permission again, ever the gentlemen, before slipping a finger inside.

Hermione hadn’t even realised how wet she was until he touched her. Victor hadn’t engaged in much foreplay, and Cormac hadn’t been much good at it, but she liked Malfoy’s fingers. Comarc had moved his almost as if he’d been trying to stuff a turkey, but Malfoy knew what he was doing, allowing her to get accustomed before moving faster and adding another one in, making her moan, curving them just in the right spot. Hermione scrambled for purchase on his shoulders while she pressed her mouth to his neck so she wouldn’t moan too loudly again, her hips starting to move against his hand. Merlin, she liked how he smelled underneath her, clean cotton and fresh wild herbs, his hair soft between her fingers, his arms warm around her.

Hermione wasn’t a virgin, she’d let Victor kiss her and touch her in fourth year, and then, as a reaction to Ron and Lavander, she’d stubbornly decided to have sex with Cormac. It seemed like a sensible choice at the time, even if she was full of anger and jealousy, he had a reputation as a bit of playboy, and she’d thought that at least he would have known what to do, she’d thought that there was no better revenge on Ron than showing him that she didn’t need him to have that kind of pleasure. It didn’t go as expected, it wasn’t painful but not even as fulfilling and pleasurable as she’d expected it to be. It had taken her an embarrassingly amount of time to understand, mostly from Ginny’s account of her own escapades, that Cormac had not, in fact, known what to do to make a woman come. She didn’t know if Ron did, she’d left the dormitory just when Lavander had started to talk about it. Malfoy seemed very capable, very knowledgeable, he kissed, sucked and licked her neck, her collarbone, her breasts through her shirt, making all thoughts that weren’t him evaporate from her head, leaving goosebumps on her skin, his fingers moving inside her exactly where she liked them, coaxing noises out of her she didn’t even know she could make.

Another moan slipped past her lips and her hips moved against Malfoy’s hand a little bit faster. She could feel him smile with his lips still pressed on her neck, focusing on that spot inside her that made her scream with determination, and it didn’t take long for her to come after that. She’d been so pent up, hadn’t had moment alone with herself for months, and when Malfoy started to move his thumb over clit she was done for. She bit his shoulder so hard she would have broken the skin if it hadn’t been for his shirt acting as a buffer under her teeth.

Afterwards, her mind was blissfully blank, the aftershock of pleasure relaxing her body, anxiety only a distant memory. Her only thoughts focused on the way Malfoy’s fingers kept moving inside her slowly, as if he was trying to extend her pleasure until he slipped them out gently. It was embarrassing how wet she was, how damp her kickers felt against her skin, Malfoy’s finger practically shining as he retracted his hand form the waistband of her jeans.

‘Good?’ he asked, his voice deeper than she’d ever heard it, making her shiver again.

His hands moved to her waist, pushing her away from him until her back was against the pole once more. She hadn’t even realised how much she’d clung to him, tried to climb him, but all Hermione could focus on was that she was deprived of his warmth, and it made her whimper, her hands fisting his shirt, trying to push him closer to her whilst she felt her eyelids get heavier. She couldn’t get sleepy, not now, it wasn’t _fair_. They had to help each other. He had angled his body in such in a way she had not felt his erection against her not even once. It made her doubt, briefly, if he had already regretted it, but it was quickly replaced by a stubborn desire to reciprocate.

His eyes were almost black, pupils blown wide.

He’d liked it.

Hermione tried to move her hands to his trousers, eyes on him, looking for cracks in his Occlumency that would allow her a glimpse of his lust, finding just hints of it among the confusion. It was as if he didn’t understand why she wanted to reciprocate. Wasn’t this working for him? She had to make it work. She wanted him to do it again, whatever he did with his fingers. Maybe ask him to use his mouth, too, Ginny had said that could be good as well. The thought of reciprocating, of sucking him off made her blush. She definitely had no experience in that, but she’d always been a fast learner, and there was nothing she wanted more than to see him come undone underneath her, a want Hermione would not allow herself to dwell on.

‘It’s okay, you needed it more today. You’re tired, go rest, Granger’ he said trying to swat her hands away, but she insisted.

She slipped her hand past the waistband of his trousers before he could stop her, until she could palm his already hard cock. His eyes went wide while her hand tentatively moved up and down, until his breath grew erratic as she picked up her pace, stroking him without hesitation, looking at him in the eyes and smirking every time he couldn’t hide his reaction behind his walls. Malfoy bit his lips before moving his hand over hers, showing her how he liked it, until he came in his pants with a frown on his face, eyes fixed on hers, without a moan ever leaving his lips, disappointing her a bit. Hermione ignored that thought as much as she had ignored the way even his smallest reaction to her touch had turned her on, how his hand enveloping hers while she stroked his cock made her shiver in anticipation, how it made her want _more_.

There was nothing strange going on, they just worked well together. Intellectually, and apparently also physically.

His cum was still on her hand when she slipped it out, and his gaze fell from her eyes to watch what she would do. In the end, she just let it fall to her side, although the temptation to lick her fingers had been stronger than she could have ever imagined. Would he call her a tease, would he finally snap like he had done in the snow, all fire and rage while he kissed her?

‘So much for pureblood education, you had your hands in my knickers without even kissing me first’ she tried to joke in the heavy silence that followed. She said it because she didn’t know what to do in the aftermath, because she wanted more and was too afraid to admit it even to herself, afraid he would reject her or even worse, accept her whilst he remained cold and distant.

Malfoy looked down at her, studying her as if he couldn’t understand the meaning of her words, his eyes shining in the wake of his orgasm giving her her only clue about his pleasure. Then his hand was on her jaw, tiling her head up gently and kissing her as if he wanted to devour her. There was less biting this time, more tongue, and it was a longer kiss. It made her blush, it made her want him again, even if her eyelids were so heavy she could barely open her eyes when they finally came back for air.

He didn’t say anything after that, he just walked back to his cot and cleaned the mess in his pants with a spell, turning his back to her, allowing her some privacy while she changed out of her wet knickers and into her pyjamas.

By the time Ron and Harry came back, she was already asleep, the tent quiet but for the sound of Malfoy brewing a batch of Wiggenweld Potion. It was as if nothing had happened, as if no monumental shift had just occurred, and it helped Hermione. It helped her to pretend it didn’t matter, as if they could both just _take_ and walk away unaffected.


	9. The Bridge

The second time it happened, he did go down on her, confirming Ginny’s words. Malfoy’s mouth making her come as well as his fingers had, the image of his platinum hair between her legs forever burned into her mind. It was a steady escalation after that.

Like before, they easily fell into a routine, understanding what needed to be done without talking much. It usually happened when Ron and Harry went out together to check the wards, as they just walked the perimeter of the campsite a couple of times while talking of nothing and everything. It gave them an hour, maybe a little less before one of them would think to go back inside the tent. Sometimes in happened in the early morning, after Hermione had the late night shift to keep watch, and Malfoy would slip inside the tent some minutes after her, or get up from his brewing station and walk to her silently, taking off his pants before sliding under the covers, his hands keeping her flush to his body so that he wouldn’t fall off the narrow cot. He’d take her like that, lowering her pyjama bottoms and knickers together, his fingers preparing her body, heavy with sleep even if she tried to stay awake before he slipped inside, rocking gently into her while she pressed her face into the pillow so that no sound could escape.

It was good, it was always so good, and Hermione felt mildly depraved knowing that she was doing it while Harry and Ron were just outside, knowing that when it happened so early in the morning she would fall asleep almost as soon as she came, while he was still inside her, only to wake up hours later with his come between her legs, trying not to blush violently under his eyes while she avoided Harry or Ron to slip into the bathroom to clean herself. Hermione still wondered how both of them had not noticed the potion she took every week at breakfast, but she certainly wasn’t complaining. Malfoy seemed relieved as well by their ignorance of the smell of the contraceptive potion he brewed specifically for her.

She understood logically while she liked it, on a physical level they seemed to be as compatible as they were intellectually, yet there was always that part of her that didn’t, that didn’t understand why it was Draco Malfoy that fucked her so good her legs turned to jelly and her mind went pleasantly blank for a solid minute. It should have been Ron, instead years of pining had turned to irritation and anger the moment he left them, Malfoy crashing into her life before she could properly understand what had happened. She was supposed to hate him, she wasn’t supposed to let him fuck her, to enjoy it as much as she did. Yet, she had not been this relaxed in months, years, her capacity for research increasing while her headaches substantially decreased. And it still wasn’t enough, a part of her always wanted _more_.

He liked it as well, and the fact that that turned her on even more just deepened her confusion. Not even Occlumency could help him hide his chocked moans when she came around his cock, she’d discovered. She’d been so bold as to tell him as much one time and Malfoy had given her just a second to smirk about it before he turned her on her belly and just fucked her harder, her mouth biting into her pillow so not to scream, hoping Ron and Harry were far enough so that they would not hear the slap of their skin and come in and interrupt them when she was so, so close. In those moments it was always the last of her worries what their reaction would be if they found her engaging with Malfoy in such compromising activities.

She could feel Malfoy smirk against her skin when he left a kiss on her shoulder, he always seemed to know when she lost herself in thoughts, and he made a point to try and make her forget about everything that wasn’t him fucking her, his hand always sneaking down her body to reach her clit and make her lose her breath and her mind in the most delicious way.

‘Good?’ he murmured in her ear, his fingers moving faster on her clit, making her squirm underneath him, his other hand on her thigh, keeping her from moving too much.

‘Yes’ she exhaled letting her head fall down on her pillow while he started to move faster and faster, a smile on her face while reality disappeared, leaving her blissfully free for a moment.

* * *

It had been a particularly difficult day. Harry had another one of his nightmares, and after an extremely worrying report from Potterwatch, dinner had turned cold by the time Hermione convinced him and Ron that going anywhere near wizarding villages was a suicidal move. They’d stomped outside not exactly angry, but surely frustrated, and she had tried to save what could be saved of their dinner with the beginning of a headache making her head throb before Malfoy had appeared behind her, lacing their fingers together and guiding her to her cot.

Hermione tried to relax under his touch, under his mouth, while he took off her clothes with practiced ease, while he pushed her down on the cot making space for himself between her legs, but it was hard to let go that night. He was always silent during her arguments with Harry and Ron, and she kept wishing for more, wising he would just let go of his Occlumency and join them, really join them, _her_ , backing _her_ as she knew he silently did. She didn’t want to see him only when they were having sex, but it was such a complicated kind of _want_ to process that Hermione never allowed herself more than a thought about it a day.

His mouth on her breasts, sucking on her nipples, and even on her cunt got her close, but somehow she didn’t seem to able come that night as fast as she usually did, and it was frustrating for her as it was to him. They didn’t have much time left before Harry or Ron came back inside, and she _hated_ it.

Malfoy slowly made his way back up her body, his mouth leaving a trail of kisses until his hand was gently massaging her temple where the threat of a headache had been just moments before, completely at odds with the firm thrust he gave to push inside her, making her bite her lips so hard they almost bled, trying to hide her moan of pleasure. She’d come to realise that she liked it a little rough, she like it when he manhandled her a bit, that she could let go and trust him to give her pleasure, that he liked it too, taking care of her, that it wasn’t a burden for him, although she always felt a bit wounded when he rebuffed all her attempts at going down on him.

It was good, very good, she wanted him, his thrusts, his fingers on her clit, taking her close, so close she could feel her orgasm building, keeping her on edge but never overflowing. There was a knot inside her that she couldn’t untangle, and she fisted the sheets with her hands in anger, frustration making it worse, irritation at the short time they always had together not helping either. Hermione didn’t even realise she started crying until his fingers brushed the tears away from her cheeks, his thrusts more gentle but not less deeper. It was just how she liked it, Malfoy almost enveloping her, his weight a bit on her, taking her breath away, one hand on her thigh and another in her hair, their foreheads pressed together while he pushed inside. She could usually come like this, not as fast as she did when he took her from behind, but he’d had his mouth on her, so what was wrong?

Hermione held on to him, her hands in his hair, pushing him down, trying to erase the world and her worries by kissing him, but something remained firmly knotted inside her, ruining whatever peace she’d found in Malfoy’s arms. She squeezed her eyes shut to avoid seeing the disappointment on his face, trying not to think why that bothered her, when he suddenly spoke.

‘It’s okay Granger, you can let go’ he said forcing her eyes open, his silver ones staring back at her with something she couldn’t even describe. ‘It’s okay, you deserve this’ he kept going, and he seemed so _eager_ , so _honest_.

Hermione blushed from her cheeks to her chest, and he understood something about her she didn’t even understand herself.

‘You’ve been good, Granger’ he said, moving faster now, and it was difficult to breathe, his words dripping like honey on her skin, making her shiver, the knot slowly untangling inside her with every letter that landed in her ears. His cock moving just right inside her, his hands on her thighs bruising.

‘You’ve been so _good_ ’ he said, and his hands were on her cheeks, his eyes fixed on hers, more _open_ than she’d ever seen and…

‘Such a good girl’ he said emphasising every word with a deep thrust.

His reflexes were good enough that he was able to put his hand over her mouth before she could scream. Her orgasm took her completely by surprise, eyes rolling to the back of her head and her thighs shaking around him, the knot finally untangled. Hermione felt light, sated, and understood, almost cherished. His hand was still warm on her mouth, and she would have loved nothing more than seeing him come and take his pleasure after everything he gave her. He deserved it too. She liked that he was still moving inside her, his breaths short and laboured, a light sheen of sweat on his chest.

When she came back to herself, Hermione looked at him better and noticed that Malfoy seemed conflicted, anxious, not the picture of bliss she had expected him to be in her post orgasmic haze. He was turning slightly towards the entrance of the tent at every other thrust, clearly worried that they would run of time, and she could see that he was as tied up as she had been, almost as if her anxiety had left her only to infect him. But Hermione was stubborn, she wanted to make him feel good as well. She _needed_ him to feel good.

Her hand moved into his hair, forcing him to look at her, while her other hand moved on his chest and then on his back, pushing him down to her until she could kiss him. She wondered if he had something like that, too. If words would help him as well, but what could she say?

Hermione decided to be honest, whispering the words in his ear while she held him close.

‘Thank you, you always take such good care of me, Draco’ she said while moving her hands up and down his back, letting her legs go slack around him so that he could move into her as he liked.

He came with a chocked moan, and she saw him shake above her for the first time, struggling to keep himself up and not crush her, his come hot inside her. She’d made him lose it, but her triumph lasted only for a brief minute. They’d crossed a line, she knew it the moment he came back to himself and looked at her, a hint of panic and surprise in his eyes, his mouth moving as if he was trying to say something but couldn’t find the words, his Occlumency walls reduced to rubbles. She could finally see the storm in his eyes and Hermione couldn’t think of a single thing to say. She should have been embarrassed, she should have been mortified that of all people, Draco Malfoy had been the one to figure out she had a kink, yet she thought nothing of the sort, still completely focused on how good it had felt to figure out his as well, to see him lose control like that with her, to make him feel good. Because he _had_ taken good care of her, he always did, and he deserved to feel good too, she _wanted_ him to.

His eyes on her were questioning, suddenly vulnerable, and Hermione didn’t know what to say, what to do. She decided that she would simply deal with it the next day, for the moment she just wanted to let herself bask in his warmth, in the sense of security and peace that despite all her denial had come to be associated with the time they spent together. She wondered if they could risk it. Would he hold her a little longer? Maybe just until she fell asleep?

Hermione kissed Draco slowly, trying to pour into it everything she couldn’t say, everything she wanted and everything she didn’t understand. She moved her hands through his soft hair, her legs closing once again around his waist, keeping him flush to her, his cock softening inside her. She found herself wanting for more time, the awkwardness of pillow talk, a shower together, a domesticity that had nothing to do with their arrangement, with the reality of the war around them, and with the fact that she still had to process that Draco Malfoy praising her turned her on.

Of course, the moment Draco started to relax moving his hands up and down her body, his nose nuzzling against her neck, they heard footsteps outside. Draco was up in an instant, making sure she was fully covered, tucking her in under the sheets before he picked up his clothes and ran to the bathroom. Harry slipped inside a moment after Draco closed the door, he paused at the entrance of the tent, his green eyes fixed on her behind the lens of his glasses.

‘Already in bed?’ he asked, and Hermione just nodded, trying to think of nothing.

Harry didn’t say anything, he just walked towards the bathroom and knocked on the door.

‘Are you done, mate?’

Before Harry could even lower his arm, Draco had opened the door. He looked, as always, perfectly put together as if nothing had happened, and Hermione was both relieved and annoyed by it. She supposed it was the same for her, her hair was always a disaster, she would draw no suspicion on that front. She ought to feel ashamed that she was still naked under the cover, Draco’s cum between her legs, while Harry was just inside the bathroom not even ten foot away from her cot. Yet it suddenly didn’t matter. Hermione pushed the covers away and walked towards Draco naked, raising on her tiptoes to leave a kiss on his mouth before swiftly putting on her pyjama and going back to bed.

She hid her smirk under the covers when she looked back at him. Draco’s hands where clenching and unclenching at his side, he was clearly struggling with his Occlumency while his eyes remained fixed on her, trying to make sense of what had happened and still was happening. He moved to his cot and laid down before Harry came out of the bathroom to go to his own cot, going under the covers fully dressed and closing his eyes even though he had his glasses still on. His turn to keep watch was in just a couple of hours.

‘Goodnight’ said Harry loud enough for Ron to hear and answer from outside.

‘Goodnight’ Hermione said back, feeling relaxed and sated, biting her lips and pressing her nose to the sheets, where Draco’s smell still lingered, not thinking through what she added next.

‘Goodnight Draco’

She saw Harry’s eyes slam open as if he’d heard an explosion. He sat up on his cot and looked first towards her and then towards Draco, who had turned around, giving his back to them both. Before Harry could say something, Hermione turned her back to him as well.

* * *

He was an idiot.

In what world would fuck Hermione Granger make things easier?

Fucking Hermione Granger made his situation even _more_ complicated. Yet he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t stop looking at her, he couldn’t stop reaching for her every time he could, touching her, holding her, thinking about her, even if he knew it was _nothing_. There was nothing between them. It was just a way to release tension so that they didn’t end up biting each other’s lips bloody in the snow once again. There was nothing because he, for her, was not as complicated as Potter and Weasley were. He could be easily denied, tossed away, left behind, forgotten. She probably thought about Weasley half of the time, or so he imagined. He wasn’t certain anymore, but he tried never to think about that, not to linger on the possibility of her thinking about someone else, about why it made him so jealous and furious.

She called him Draco now, which was… weird, coming from her lips, almost warm, comforting. But Draco tried not to think about that either. He’d offered the arrangement before he could overthink it too much, one moment he was thinking about how maybe making her come would loosen the tension in her body and the next she was saying yes and his fingers were inside her. He couldn’t say he had much control on what happened afterwards either, the way he ended up fucking her in her cot every time Weasley and Potter were far enough not to hear them, Draco couldn’t really explain it. He tried to control himself, to put her in a box behind his walls, but she always slipped out somehow. It didn’t help that she seemed extremely eager, that she seemed pleased and satisfied by him in a way Pansy had never been. He found himself almost obsessed trying to make her feel good, because it was always good for him, her body a masterpiece under his hands and his mouth, her moans making his head spin.

Merlin he wanted… he couldn’t even allow himself to think about what he wanted, all the way he wanted to ruin her, keep her, because he could take only what she willingly gave, not that he would like it any other way, but it also meant he could never have her. Not all of her. She belonged with Potter and Weasley, she would leave him behind once the war was over, if they somehow managed to win, if he didn’t die before that.

He wasn’t even supposed to want her in the first place, they were allies, yes, but still enemies. Draco was so lost in thought he didn’t see Potter and Weasley leave the tent, and before he could say anything, Granger was in his lap, the book he’d been reading tossed aside, her lips on his neck setting him on fire.

Her hands were already on the button of his trousers, and it was hard for Draco to stop her, his head spinning. She smelled like Vanilla and old books and it always went to his head, she was like a drug he never had enough of. It scared him, it scared him more than even taking the Mark had, because even if he had the Mark he’d remained himself, a new damaged version perhaps, but still Draco Malfoy. Whatever that was, the feeling that made him shiver under her hands, that made him seek her touch, her warmth, even when he knew he shouldn’t, it felt foreign, like it belonged to a totally different person, it spurred him to do things he’d never done before, to think about things he’d never dared to think about before. It wasn’t just the usual way his thought swinged from hate to love about his family, himself, but how he felt her move inside his head, how she inched closer and closer to the people he wanted to keep safe no matter what it would cost him.

It was terrifying.

It was even more terrifying as he knew how one sided it all seemed to be, even if she’d thanked him, told him he took such good care of her, her words shattering him and pulling him back together. He lived in constant fear of another argument between them where he would be reminded of the insurmountable differences between them, of how they never seemed to quite understand each other.

She was whispering something in his ear, something about going down on him, her breath hot against his face, his hands already on her waist, while she moved against his growing erection making him go insane.

‘Let me do this, please, I want to’ she pleaded and he didn’t understand what was that for. He would give her anything. _Anything_.

Her hands were in his hair, his mouth on her neck, and it was extremely difficult to move away, to stop her from moving.

‘What is it?’ she looked at him with worry, her hands moving from his shoulders to his cheeks, cradling his face so gently he couldn’t help but lay into it.

Draco couldn’t remember the last time some had touched him as gently as Granger did. It felt like another life, his mother short hugs, Pansy’s arm linked to his, Blaise’s arm around his shoulders, Theo taking his hand as they rushed from class to class…

She would leave. He would be left alone, and it all had been a terrible mistake, getting so close, allowing her to get under his skin. He was sure she would understand if he put a stop to it.

‘I have tried to justify myself but…I would be lying if I didn’t say that what I did, all the choices I made, they were my own despite the circumstances. I choose to be cruel and mean to you and Potter and Weasley, and to follow my father and…’ he was rambling, his hands shaking at her waist.

‘Draco’ she tried to interrupt him, a frown on her face, her hands still warm on his cheeks.

‘What I’m trying to say is that… you shouldn’t get the wrong idea. I’m not a good person, I’m not in this for the greater cause, I just want my family to be safe and I know I’ve tried to justify myself before, I always try, it’s like I can’t help it, but I’m not that thick, I know I’m not a good person, that I cannot make good choices even when I try and…’

‘Draco, I know, it’s okay’ there was a soft smile on her face, one he had only see her reserve for him after they’d had sex, in the seconds of pure peace they shared before he had to move away before Potter or Weasley came in.

Her kisses were soft, her hands moving slowly and lazy on his body as if they had time, as if they were alone, as if she cared.

She pushed him down unit he was laying on his cot, making space for herself in his arms, her weight on his chest easing his anxiety, his mind going pleasantly quiet while she made abstract patters with her fingers on his shoulder, then down his chest, her lips leaving more soft kisses on his neck.

‘This is nice too’ she said, and she seemed so utterly satisfied. Draco couldn’t understand why.

‘Hermione’ he murmured, and he felt her suck in a breath, her hands going still for a moment before they went back to their lazy exploration.

‘Relax, I’ll keep watch this time’ she said, and Draco could feel the smile in her words.

He closed his eyes and fell asleep before he could question himself further.

* * *

Something was going on, Harry _knew_ it. He just did.

His eyes were on Hermione, then on Malfoy. They looked normal, but _something_ was going on.

‘You okay? You look… uh, weird’ said Ron next to him.

‘How so?’ Harry asked not taking his eyes off Malfoy.

‘You’re looking at Malfoy like you did in sixth year.’

‘I’m not’ he denied, eyes still on Malfoy, then briefly on Hermione, then back on Malfoy. They were talking about blood wards again, but their eyes seemed… softer. Maybe Malfoy was sick, when Harry had gone back inside the tent he’d found him napping on his cot, something he’d never done before, while Hermione had been not too far away, looking at their stock of potions .

‘You are’ insisted Ron. ‘Honestly I don’t know if you suspect him of something or if you got a weird crush going on. Either way I’m not sure I wanna know.’

Harry coughed violently, chocking on his own saliva, while Ron sighed, peeling another potato with his wand and tossing it in the pan at his feet.

‘I miss Fred and George, I miss _fun_ ’

‘I’m not doing anything weird!’ Harry tired to defend himself, but Ron looked skeptical.

‘ _Mate_ ’ he just said, and it was Harry’s turn to let out a sigh.

What was he even worrying about? Malfoy was on their side, he’d killed Greyback but… a part of him feared changed, feared losing his friends, and, if he really dug deep inside himself, Harry was jealous of the companionship that had easily developed between Malfoy and Hermione. He was not so sure he and Ginny would have balanced each other quite as nicely under stress if she had joined them too.

It was a thought that had made his way into his mind a couple of days before and that Harry didn’t know how to ignore. He wondered constantly what would happen afterwards, if they survived, if anything, for once, went their way instead of going terribly wrong.

Early spring had been nothing but melted snow and mud everywhere, vivid green leaves appearing on bare branches, and all Harry had seen had been a bleak future even in the best case scenario he could possibly imagine. The Weasleys had always been like the family he’d never had, Ron was his best friend, and Ginny was… Ginny. She had changed, undoubtedly changed, she wasn’t obsessed with him anymore, not like she had been before, yet Harry couldn’t help feeling not quite at ease when he thought of her. Molly, Arthur, even Bill, had all made abundantly clear that they expected the two of them to be together even without saying anything about it.

Maybe, if Dumbledore had not died, if he hadn’t left him with too many questions and riddles to play a role he could not refuse to play, Harry would have felt different. As things stood, he didn’t want his life to be once again reduced to other’s expectations. If Voldemort died, if he could finally be free… he wasn’t sure he would choose Ginny. It was impossible to even put into words, but the more he looked at Hermione and Malfoy the more that thought became entrenched in his mind. Who could he be? What could he choose and be in a new world free of Voldemort? Where blood prejudices were proven wrong once and for all? It wasn’t that he wanted to forget the Weasleys, on the contrary, he could never imagine a life without them, but he also couldn’t imagine them be all there was for him. He had to admit that part of what had pushed him towards Ginny was his need to feel sheltered, cared for, protected by a family like he had never been, and Ginny was like a fast track to it, to forever be welcomed in a family, _permanently_. It wasn’t to say that he didn’t like her, because he did: she was beautiful, smart, sassy, great at Quidditch, but he wasn’t sure he could call it love, he wasn’t sure she could be his forever. He certainly never looked at her the way sometimes Malfoy looked at Hermione, as if she was saving his life yet stabbing him in the heart at the same time. Nor Ginny had ever looked at him with the tender possessiveness and longing that he’d started to notice in Hermione’s eyes when she was around Malfoy. What he was even more certain of, was that he’d never seen anyone work as smoothly together as they did, entire conversations passing between them with just a look.

Harry tried to distract himself by starting to cook the potatoes Ron had pealed, trying to think about how to tell Ron about the possibility of Hermione and Malfoy becoming an item without him going nuts. He almost burned himself on the pan when Hermione suddenly jumped up.

‘Oh my god, I’m such an idiot!’ she exclaimed, her hands in her hair.

‘What is it?’ Ron asked standing up, worried, and Harry tried to understand what had Hermione react in such a way, looking around for possible treats and finding none.

‘Draco’ she said, and Harry saw Ron’s eyes go wide in disbelief, mouth open but no words coming out. He should have warned him about _that_ particular development sooner.

‘You are a Black’ Hermione continued.

‘Yes?’ Malfoy asked, a little worried as the rest of them at her sudden shift, confused.

‘Sirius left Grimmuld Place to Harry alongside Kreacher, the house elf, you know about him?’

‘I have a vague memory of going there with my mother to see Aunt Walburga, dreadful place and dreadful woman. I’ve seen Kreacher at the Manor a couple of times through the years.’

‘Of course you have, because he serves the ancient and most noble house of Black, and who’s left if not you and your mother?!’

‘Bellatrix’ he added, almost afraid she could forget, perhaps understanding what she was thinking. Harry wished he could say the same.

‘Well, yes, but I don’t think she cares about the place. Anyway, we were hiding there, after the Ministry fell, and there was… well, mistakes happened, and we let in Yaxley through the fidelius charm, so we left, thinking the place would have been taken over’ she said sitting down once more, the smell of burned potatoes coming from the pan on the fire remind Harry to stir them before he made a mess.

‘Uh, yes, I… I think I heard Bellatrix talk about it with my mother, my mother was tasked to…’ but Draco didn’t finish the sentence, his eyes going wide ‘my mother was tasked with refurbishing Grimmuld Place, I don’t… when Yaxley came back he was tortured and he had a go at me too, but… what are you thinking? If they find out my mother is hiding us…’

‘No, that’s not what I’m thinking about. You are dead as far as everyone knows, and the Blacks not only believed in blood supremacy but also saw their sons above their daughters. We spent so much time talking about blood wards used by pureblood families I feel like an idiot for not thinking about it sooner. Harry’s claim on Grimmuld Place was enforced through the magic of the goblins at Gringotts, but everything that wasn’t money wasn’t even transferred to Harry, it went straight to your mother and you, because even despite goblins’ magic, blood magic was stronger, and certain artefacts would only allow themselves be taken by a Black’ she said talking so fast Harry had trouble keeping up.

Ron had given up almost completely, looking at the potatoes cooking in the pan more intently, a frown on his face. Harry hoped he wasn’t thinking too much about Hermione calling Malfoy by name.

‘Where are you going with this Hermione, who told you not everything was transferred? I didn’t even know that!’ Harry exclaimed finally catching up.

‘I might have asked McGonagall about the paperwork when we arrived after the summer in sixth year as she took care of it with Dumbledore, but that’s irrelevant now’ she answered dismissing it quickly. ‘What I’m saying is: Draco’s claim on Grimmuld Place is stronger than anyone’s, because of Black family traditions and because the house has almost six hundred years old blood wards on it. Blood wards need to be renewed annually, and after Sirius left the family they weren’t, since Walburga spent time there but not exclusively, fearing the wards might let Sirius in anyway. Now, Draco said that when a succession happens, the wards are at their most vulnerable, and unless the heir reinforces them, they get weaker and weaker. Sirius died at the end of fifth year, that is almost two years ago now, and it explains why the wards didn’t repel Yaxley’

‘You said Yaxley was let in because he was touching me when we disapparated from the Ministry’ Ron said, frown deepening.

‘Correct, but that was the failing of the _fidelio_ , a much _younger_ protection spell placed on it after Sirius gave the house to the Order. When he did so, he left the wards that were already on the house in place but he didn’t fortified them or claim them, thus relying mostly on the fidelio to protect them from intruders. We were allowed in and added to the wards because Sirius let us, a standard practice, much like Harry and I were added to the wards at the Burrow. _But_ the wards at Grimmuld Place weakened more and more every passing year, and must have weakened even further after Sirius died, when no heir came to claim them and reinforce them. They would have repelled Yaxley even if we had let him in the fidelo if they’d been fortified even once by Sirius before he died.’

‘Okay, fine, but we cannot go back to Grimmuld Place, right? It would expose Malfoy’s mother’ said Ron, still frowning, more at the fact that he was thinking about the wellbeing of a Malfoy than the topic itself.

‘I have to agree with Weasley there’ Malfoy said, his eyes following Hermione as she stood up and started to walk back and forth while thinking out loud.

‘Not necessarily. Draco mentioned that there have been instances of old pureblood houses that, once the bloodline died out, even if the goblins managed to switch the ownership to non-blood relatives, they would eventually disappear.’

‘Yes, ancient wards can be temperamental, they can… collapse on themselves if the bloodline that created them dies’ Malfoy agreed.

‘That could happen?’ Harry asked surprised.

‘Yes, in Hogwarts: A History, there’s a whole chapter on how the founders were afraid the wards would collapse once they died, and that’s why the claiming by the new Headmaster is critical’ Draco explained while Hermione watched him with shining eyes, blushing, cementing in Harry the idea that something was going on between them.

‘That could be our excuse. You could claim Grimmuld Place, reinforce the wards and then make it unplottable, effectively making it disappear, we could cast a new fidelio just to be sure. Six hundred years wards would be almost as impenetrable as Hogwarts’ own, and not even You-Know-Who could penetrate them’ Hermione seemed thrilled at the idea, Malfoy very less so.

Her plan seemed much more dangerous than the ones she had scolded Harry for in the past months.

‘I would need… even if I rushed through the ritual I would need at least twenty minutes just to reclaim the wards, and even _if_ it has been given to my mother, we have to know when no one will be there. There are safety mechanisms that could be triggered for wards as ancient as these, I could… theoretically, even move the house. But I will need time, and it requires a lot of magic’ Malfoy’s hands were trembling, it wasn’t extremely obvious, but Harry noticed it. He gripped the book in his hands more firmly, and it seemed to be enough for Hermione not to notice.

It made Harry worry even more. What was exactly this ritual they were talking about? He didn’t want Malfoy to die to reclaim a house Sirius had hated, no matter how nice it would have been to sleep in a bed once again, to stop moving around every week or so.

‘We can figure it out if we call Kreacher’ said Hermione, hands on her hips, and Harry frowned, catching Malfoy’s attention.

‘How can we do that? You said yourself that it was too dangerous’ Ron chimed in, clearly preoccupied by all these sudden developments.

‘That was before we knew he occasionally went to the Manor, it would make him disappearing easy to explain, something not out of the ordinary, and it also means he’s not bound to the house. And with Draco with us, his loyalty will be absolute. As much as I dislike it, he will die before betraying him’ she said scrunching her nose in displeasure.

It made sense. Harry didn’t know nor understood the intricacies of blood wards, but Hermione seemed more sure about it than he’d ever seen her about anything since they left Hogwarts. Malfoy, on the other hand, was slowly sinking back into his Occlumency, which worried Harry. Was he not telling them something or was it because it was a topic too close to his family? Did it even matter? It was the most action they’d had in months, he was itching to do something, _anything_ beside just hiding.

‘Okay, let’s try’ Harry said standing up. Hermione seemed taken back by that.

‘Really?’ she asked at the same time Ron did, who stood up as well, the pan with the half burned potatoes in his hand.

‘Really, we cannot… continue like this. The attack from Greyback was already too much’ he said, and at that Malfoy’s eyes snapped to him, something like anger and resignation in his gaze.

‘Call him, Draco’ Hermione said.

Malfoy didn’t look pleased, but he didn’t say anything, he just closed his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths before he followed her request.

‘ _Kreacher_ ’

The elf appeared near the fire with a crack, the rag he was wearing dirtier than Harry remembered, Regulus’ locket clenched in his wrinkled hand. He looked at Harry and then his eyes immediately moved to Malfoy, as if he couldn’t help himself.

‘Master Black!’ he cried falling to his knees, practically crawling to Malfoy and hugging one of his legs.

Hermione looked as displeased by that as Malfoy seemed uncomfortable, but he just patted the elf’s head.

‘Are you safe?’ Malfoy asked, and Kreacher seemed on the verge of tears. Harry had never seen him so affectionate with anyone, not even to Walburga’s screaming portrait. Had Draco really met him before? Was he different from his father or had he treated Dobby poorly as well?

‘Yes, Kreacher is safe, Kreacher is honoured to be able to serve the noble house of Black once more.’

‘How is Grimmuld Place? Has someone touched the old wards?’ Malfoy hand stayed on Kreacher’s head until the elf let his leg go.

‘No, no, no one has touched the wards, Kreacher remembers the old master did the last ritual before he died’ Hermione was extremely pleased by that piece of information, and she smiled at Malfoy even though he didn’t smile back.

‘Okay… have you… have you seen my mother?’

Despite the Occlumency, Harry could see the worry in his eyes, the anxiety. It wiped the smile from Hermione’s face, but Kreacher seemed unable to read his mood, he started to jump up and down like Dobby had despite his age.

‘Yes! Yes! Kreacher has seen mistress Black! She comes often!’

‘That’s… good. You mustn’t tell anyone that you spoke to us, but… you must tell us immediately when no one will be at the house, alright?’

‘Yes, master, Kreacher understands’

‘What about Bellatrix, has she ever been to the house?’ at that Kreacher’s happiness disappeared, he became once more the wrinkled, irritable elf Harry had come to know.

‘Mistress came once, punished Kreacher because Harry Potter had been there, but Harry Potter is Kreacher’s master, there is nothing Kreacher can do about that, master Black is also Kreacher’s master. Kreacher was worried master Black was dead so he was serving mistress Black, but now that Kreacher knows master is alive, Kreacher will serve him.’

‘We will…’ Malfoy started to say, but then his eyes fell on the medallion around Kreacher’s neck, the fake one Regulus had forged. ‘You will tells us when no one is at the house, and I will claim it back. We will avenge Regulus, yes? Together?’

Kreacher nodded eagerly, his eyes shining, a wicked smile twisting his wrinkled face.

‘Yes, Kreacher will help master _kill_ those who hurt the house of Black, yes’ his old voice low and full of rage.


	10. The Moonchild

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW // some brief mentions of self harm

After a week, Kreacher apparated with a crack in the middle of the tent during breakfast on a rainy morning, telling them that Grimmuld Place would be empty the next day for roughly five hours whilst the Death Eaters gathered at Malfoy Manor. He didn’t mention Narcissa or what was going on at the Manor, but Hermione had seen Draco grow more tense and anxious day by day, withdrawing and isolating himself except for when he tried to manage their expectations by explaining that he’d just about learned the ritual for the Manor’s wards before his father was taken away, and he couldn’t know for sure if the ritual the Balck used was the same. It was a touchy subject in and on itself, Hermione knew she’d asked a lot from him, tapping into a memory of his father teaching him how to claim the Manor in the event of his death the summer before their fifth year.

He was avoiding her, never looking for her or reaching for her unless Hermione reached for him first, and it was more painful that she’d expected, but she allowed him to have space, going to him only when she felt so down there was nothing that could calm her but his arms around her. It was certainly worrying, how much she’d come to rely on him, yet in her mind it wasn’t even on top of her list of things to worry about, the codependency, the _need_.

On what was to be their last day on the run from forest to forest, she cornered Draco behind an oak tree, away from Ron and Harry taking down the tent, and she kissed him as softly as she could, trying to pour into it all she couldn’t say, all she didn’t know how to admit. His arms around her, the way he responded to her touch, easing her anxiety even if they barely spoke a word to one another. His eyes on her the whole way back to Harry and Ron probably saying more than he meant to, even despite the Occlumency. She wasn’t the only one affected.

‘Are we ready?’ Hermione asked once they’d packed up and covered their tracks, dismantling the wards and making sure they left nothing behind, not a single trace of their presence.

Everyone was tense, this was to be their first time in muggle London since they retrieved the locked, and Ron had almost lost an arm for it.

‘We’ll apparate near the British Museum, there’s a quiet alley behind it that we can use. From there we can walk north to Grimmuld Place. It’ll take about forty minutes, but it’s more secure than apparating closer, there might be warning spell for magical activity’ she said while carefully transfiguring everyone.

Harry’s hair became longer, brown, his eyes black; Ron’s hair became black, a buzz cut and the shadow of a five o’clock beard on his face; she made Draco’s hair bronze, his eyes green, whilst she turned her own hair blond and straight.

‘Okay, ready?’ Hermione asked, lacing her fingers with Draco’s and taking Harry’s hand with the other, who also grabbed Ron in turn.

‘Let’s do this’ Harry exclaimed, and Hermione closed her eyes.

She concentrated and then she dissapparate them away from the cold forest one last time. The sound of the crowded city suddenly filled their ears, car horns and people shouting covered the noise of their apparition. It was weird for all of them, Hermione could tell, suddenly be around so many people, be so exposed, after months of isolation and on the run. She allowed them a couple of minutes to settle in, to get accustomed to the sounds and smells around them without being overwhelmed. Harry had let go of her hand almost immediately, but she still had her fingers laced with Draco’s and no intention to let go. Among the four of them, he was the one less familiar with muggle London, the most anxious for what they were about to do, the one more prone to get overwhelmed by the large crowd of people and rude tourists pushing and bumping against him in the streets. She wanted to protect him as fiercely as she wanted to protect Harry and Ron, and it was scary, more scarier than she could even admit to herself.

‘Let’s go’ she said taking a breath, the polluted air of the city already irritating her nose after months in the fresh mountain air, ‘let’s stick close to each other, don’t be afraid to be rude and push past other people. We _cannot_ split up’

Harry and Ron nodded and she untangled her fingers from Draco’s, an unusual glimpse of vulnerability coming through the Occlumency from him, but it lasted only a second until she linked their arms and started to walk, their pace fast and hurried.

They managed to get through the crowd at Piccadilly Circus nicely enough, walking up Regent Street until they reached Oxford Circus, after which the more north they went, the more the crowd thinned. Hermione allowed herself to get briefly distracted by the Easter decorations in the shop windows only when they waited for the signal to cross the street to turn green. She couldn’t allow herself a second more to pretend they were normal, to imagine a future in which she could do this: walk into muggle London with Draco and talk to him about muggle traditions which had filled her childhood such as the easter bunny. She couldn’t get distracted in daydreams, in wants and fantasies when she could not even admit to herself _why_ she wanted them.

After thirty minutes of speed walking, they finally approached the neighbourhood where Grimmuld Place was. Here, they proceeded with more caution, Harry and Ron looking around for undercover snatchers and Death Eaters as Hermione casted small detecting spells with the wand hidden in the pocket of her coat, trying to see if their way to the house was clear, while Draco kept murmuring under his breath the words to the ritual, as if he was afraid he would forget them.

‘It’s clear, let’s go’ she said, and they walked a little bit faster, but still trying not to catch everyone’s attention until they arrived in front of the house.

It wasn’t hidden by the fidelio anymore as it had been broken, but it was still invisible to muggles. Kreacher had said that once the Death Eaters would leave, they could simply come in. As the house was still being remodelled, it had no other warding spells on it but the old blood wards which would allow Draco in as a heir, overconfidence at their victory on the part of the Death Eaters, or maybe just an opening left by Narcissa, Hermione didn’t know.

She casted some more detecting spells, but as she found nothing, she pushed Draco forward, Harry and Ron following behind.

They walked up the steps of Grimmuld Place carefully, wands now in their hands and constantly looking around while Draco moved away from her and slowly reached for the handle of the door. Nothing happened, he was able to turn it and the door opened without any surprises, and then they rushed inside where Kreacher was waiting for them with an anxious smile on his face, the transfiguration charm dissolving past the doorstep.

It seemed impossible that things could go their way for once. It worried her even more.

‘We don’t have much time, let’s start’ Draco exclaimed as they got in and closed the door behind them, practically vibrating with anxiety.

He rushed around the house, wand in hand, murmuring spell after spell to assess the defences of the house, to trigger the emergency mechanism hidden in the wards and to make Grimmuld Place once again unplottable, trying to hide hide it from everyone, even Voldemort himself.

‘Fidelio last’ repeated Hermione when Draco reappeared in the entrance hallway. He nodded before taking off his coat and letting it fall on the floor as he rolled up the sleeves of his dark green jumper.

‘Fidelio last, yes, step back’ he said moving right in front of the door, looking at the carpet under his feet with a frown on his face, a small red light shining on the tip of his wand ‘Kreacher, get me the ceremonial knife!’

‘I’m sorry the _what_?’ Harry exclaimed, eyes wide, and Hermione had to put an hand on his arm to keep him from getting in the way.

‘Yes, master… here it is master’ Kreacher disappeared and reappeared with a silver knife in his hands, the black handle adorned with shining rubies, the blade sharp.

‘A _knife_? Hermione?!’ Harry looked scared, and Hermione wished he wasn’t. This was already hard for her, if he panicked too…

‘It’s gonna be okay’ she said to him, to herself. Draco had said it was rare for things to go wrong, yet… the wards could reject him. It was a possibility.

‘Alright, now don’t… don’t panic. I will be alright’ Draco said it while looking at her in the eyes, knife in his right hand and wand in his left one, Occlumency only partially hiding his apprehension.

‘That doesn’t sound good’ Ron said pressing himself into the wall, sucking in a breath as if he was expecting to be punched, or to see something that would make him vomit.

Kreacher removed the entrance rug and exposed an intricate circle with runes carved into the wood of the floor, lines moving outside of it that seemed to reach into every corner of the house.

Draco turned his back to them, yet Hermione could see all too well the way he frowned and bit his lips trying not to let a single sound escape as he made a cut on both his forearms, bleeding so much it was impossible for Hermione not to worry, not to try and reach for him before Harry stopped her as she had stopped him before.

He knelt on the floor, head bowed, the light on the top of his wand flickering. As his blood started to drip into the carving in the woods, filling it, the runes activated, shining brighter with every word he said, the sound of something slowly moving, clicking into place, almost deafening, like the mechanism of a mechanical watch being recharged. The light from the runes intensified, bathing Draco in red light, and Hermione could see where they ran as they shined even through the thick carpets that covered the floor, up the stairs, in the living room, the kitchen. The house started to shake and groan around them so much that Harry, Ron and Hermione had to steady themselves against the wall so not to fall while Draco remained kneeling in the middle of the circle, words coming out of his mouth faster and faster. Magic was in the air, filling every part of the house, impossible not to notice, it felt ancient and thick, it smelled like a room that had remained closed for too long and rich red wine, and it felt somewhat familiar. Hermione had felt magic like this before, in second year, after Harry showed her where entrance to the Chamber of Secrets was after she woke up.

A wind suddenly swept through the house, the signal that the wards were indeed being reactivated to their full potential, looking for intruders to whisk away and finding none, Kreacher laughing almost maniacally behind Draco, a wicked smile on his wrinkled face as he held on to the leg of a small table, the glass lamp on top of it rattling dangerously, threatening to fall.

With a last groan, the house stopped shaking, a loud thud ricocheting through the halls, as if the very foundations of the house had fallen loudly on the ground. Draco didn’t lose time, he immediately stood up on uncertain legs, his forearms still covered in blood, the very blood that still lingered on the carving on the floor, the runes still shining faintly. He had used too much magic all at once, yet he took his wand out and pointed it at Hermione’s heart.

The residual blood magic from the ritual was still lingering in him, Hermione could see it in the way his eyes shined unnaturally, the sheen of sweat on his forehead, the way in which she could almost _see_ magic moving around his wand. He whispered the fidelio charm and Hermione repeated the words after him, never taking her eyes away from his, trying to reassure herself that everything, for once, had gone their way, that he was fine, _he had to be_. A small golden light appeared on the tip of his wand, and then it melted on her chest, hiding Grimmuld Place inside her soul.

‘Is it done?’ asked Harry, but Hermione already had her wand out, hastily healing the cuts on Draco’s arms, making the blood disappear before it gave her a full blown anxiety attack.

‘It is. It should have disappeared and… if I did it right, I should have been able to move us a couple of numbers over. Technically 16 Grimmuld Place now’ he said out of breath, his jaw clenched. He needed to rest.

‘Oh thank Merlin’ Ron exhaled letting himself fall on the ground.

Hermione was about to drag him to one of the rooms so that he could lie down when Walburga started to scream from her portrait, making everyone groan. They couldn’t have it all, _of course_.

Draco immediately walked over, a hand to push his damp hair away from his face.

‘Aunt’ he said in greeting, something akin to fear in his gaze confusing Hermione.

Was he hoping Walburga could communicate with the Manor and his mother? As his great-aunt surely she would…

‘Well, well, well if it isn’t the little Malfoy _welp_. I never expected you would be the one to reclaim _my_ house. I suppose better you than my traitor son or the halfblood Potter. I told your mother she shouldn’t have married that Malfoy man, they’re pure, but weak. The young Lestrange would have been a far better choice’ she said, her voice still irritating to the ears.

Hermione scrunched her nose, stopping herself from reaching for Draco. She couldn’t do that unless she explained to Ron and Harry things she couldn’t even explain to herself.

‘I see you haven’t changed’ Draco’s voice was more controlled than before, which eased Hermione’s anxiety a little. If he could control his Occlumency it meant he was fine. It meant everything was alright.

‘You’ve changed much. Going around with blood traitors and _mudbloods_ … I knew you would be weak, just like your father! Your mother should have let your aunt drown you when you were born, such a harbinger of misfortune! A child born during a blood moon brings nothing but ruins! You will kill the house of Black!’ Walburga’s scream reverberated through the walls of the house, chilling Hermione to the bones, Harry sucking in a breath and Ron looking almost whiplashed by the words. Draco stilled, so stiff he seemed made of ice.

Had she just said said…?

‘How can I do that? Aren’t you the reason all your sons are dead?’ Draco’s voice was flat, there was more irritation than hurt in his eyes.

‘You impertinent…’

‘I’ve claimed this house, and as _master_ , I order you to stay silent until I ask you to speak. You may never leave your portrait until I say so’ as he said the words, the lips in Walburga’s painting pressed together, the paint becoming smudged, and no sound came out despite her attempts.

‘Sirius should have claimed the wards just to do that’ Harry joked but Draco was already turning away.

He disappeared up the stairs taking two steps at the time and Hermione followed him without even looking back at Harry or Ron. She barely noticed how the house had changed, the warmer blue colour on the walls, how the house elves heads and all other horrendous artefacts had disappeared, how the place was cleaner than it had ever been, new furniture creating a comforting environment. Hermione briefly wondered how the Manor was decorated, if this was Narcissa’s style, if Draco could see his mother’s touch in every colour, every piece of furniture. He entered the first room he saw and she followed him.

She’d imagined he would fall into one of his moods, which was fine. She’d pushed him too much, she knew, she was more than happy to hold him if he wanted, instead of pushing her away, just like he’d held her together with every small gesture, every touch, after they started collaborating.

‘Draco…’

She could barely say his name that he was pushing her against the wall, his lips on her, taking her breath away, his hands already roaming on her body, sneaking under her shirt.

It was intoxicating, the _want_ that she could feel coming from him. She hadn’t expected it, but she welcomed it all the same, reaching for him as desperately as he reached for her. How long had it been since he last touched her? It couldn’t have been more than a week, it was ridiculous how much she’d missed it, how much she’d miss _him_. She was in so, _so much_ trouble.

They made quick work of their clothes, although with some difficulties as Draco seemed reluctant to stop kissing her for even just a second, and then he closed the door with a spell and silenced the room before pushing her towards the bed. A thrill went down her spine at the thought that she could scream as loud as she wanted.

Surprising him and even herself, Hermione turned them around until she could be the one pushing him down on the bed, climbing on top of him. The act itself left him breathless, his hands moving up and down her waist while he laid back and looked at her expectantly, waiting to see what she would do. It had been a mix of want and worry to prompt her, she couldn’t allow him to do all the work after the amount of magic he’d used for the ritual, she didn’t want him to pass out, and she also wanted, _really wanted_ , to do it. To pin him underneath her and see him come undone, his moans filling her ears. Too bad she had never been on top before, and she was a little afraid she would do something wrong.

Draco saw her hesitation and his hands slowly moved to her breast, playing with her nipples and making her moan and relax until she could swat them away, pin them over his head while she kissed his chest like she had wanted to do for weeks, following the scars left by the sectumsempra. It was easier than she expected, taking him in her hand, stroking him once, twice, before taking his cock in her mouth, a moan leaving his lips that went straight to her core. She could only give a couple of tentative licks before he fisted her hair and forced her back up, making her huff out a laugh at the eagerness with which he kissed her.

Hermione held his face in her hands, making sure he looked at her in the eyes while she lowered herself down on his cock, slowly, enjoying the way his jaw went slack, mouth open in a silent moan and eyes black from lust. She still couldn’t believe they had the luxury of a bed, she still couldn’t believe she could finally hear him moan, every sound he made giving her more pleasure than she could have predicted.

‘We have… we should to be fast, we should go back down… the wards…’ she barely managed to say, moving up and down, the friction delicious. They couldn’t have done this on that narrow camping cot.

‘Yes, yes’ was all Draco could say, almost frantic, eyes fixed on her, hands on her thighs and then on her ass, helping her move before his fingers were on her clit, touching her just how she liked it.

Hermione came with a shout, falling on Draco’s chest while he kept pushing inside her, chasing his own release. It was the first time she heard him moan so openly while she clench around him, it sent a different wave of pleasure down her body as he stilled, coming inside her.

She practically collapsed on him, but he didn’t seem to mind, he wrapped his arms around her while she nuzzled against his neck, breathing him in, leaving soft kisses against his skin. The smell of blood and magic still lingered on him, but underneath it she could still feel it, herbs, cotton, mint, _Draco_.

_Mine_ , something deep inside her whispered as she bit him lightly, exactly in the same spot where she’d bitten him when she had come for the first time after he touched her in the tent, after their kiss in the snow. Draco’s hand just moved into her hair, pulling enough to sting, until she complied and moved her head up, allowing him to kiss her as deeply as he wanted.

_Mine_ , and it almost slipped past her lips, in the comfort of a closed room, while she was laying naked on his chest, while he was still inside her, his arms warm around her, his presence intoxicating, wanting more, _more_.

And then someone tried to open the door. Someone knocked.

‘Hermione? Everything alright?’ Harry’s voice made her groan exasperated against Draco’s lips.

For the first time, probably ever, Hermione heard him chuckle, a small smile on his red kiss-swollen lips, silver eyes shining.

Merlin, she wanted so, so much…

Hermione summoned her wand non verbally and broke the silencing spell.

‘Yes, Draco was just… a little upset and weak from the ritual, we’ll be down in a second’ she said trying to get up and begrudgingly untangle herself from him, but Draco pushed her back down on his chest. She didn’t really complain.

‘Alright’ Harry said before they heard him walk away.

‘You okay?’ she asked raising herself up on her elbows, looking down at him. It was devastatingly domestic, talking to him in such a way, together in a bed, sheets crumpled around them, the air smelling of sex, them.

‘Yeah’ he said, closing his eyes when she moved a lock of hair away from his face, shivering under her touch.

‘Draco’ she called, but his breath had evened out. He’d fallen asleep, exhaustion overtaking him after all the magic he had to use for the ritual.

Hermione took the opportunity to watch him sleep fo a while, much like she did when she first had to heal him, the difference being she now knew his body intimately, cherished his presence, his help, his support. She was more than glad that the frown of pain that had perpetually been on his face in those first few weeks was gone.

Much later, as she descended the stairs, she found Harry waiting for her, Ron already in the kitchen with his mouth full of food, enjoying Kreache’s cooking.

‘Draco?’ Harry asked, and Hermione feared, for a second, that he might know, that he might…

‘The ritual required a lot of magic, he needs rest. He will probably sleep for a day’

Harry nodded at her words, breathing a little easier, as if he had been worried.

‘I’m still… things usually don’t go our way’ he said, and Hermione had to agree. This was an abnormality, one that she was all to happy to accept.

‘I suppose’ Harry added with a small smile, ‘this is what happens when more than one person in a group has knowledge and skills. Maybe also the result of extending a hand to unlikely allies. Narcissa couldn’t say anything or contact us in any way, but I doubt the house was left without protection without her wanting to do so’

‘I really hope that’s true’ Hermione sighted.

* * *

It had been simple to take over the management of Grimmuld Place from her sister. After all, Bellatrix had never cared for interior design nor the intricacies of running a household, and _everyone_ knew, including the Dark Lord, that it was Narcissa who ran Malfoy Manor and kept his army fed with a roof over their heads. Initially, the house had been her hope for Draco, he could hide there, but Bellatrix had been too erratic after the news it had been used by Potter, practically tearing the house to shreds and returning several time to destroy it some more. Which was why delivering Draco to the Order through Severus had been both far more dangerous yet much more likely in resulting in her preferred outcome: her son not being tortured on a daily basis, away from the Dark Lord and the Manor. So Grimmuld Place had been set aside.

Narcissa would have gladly died for her son, for the one off chance that being with the Order could save him. She had not expected to find Mr Potter, and she didn’t know if she trusted him, but given that the boy had survived numerous murder attempts through the years and was currently the biggest torn in the side of the supposedly greatest dark wizard of all time - him, an eighteen year old - Narcissa was well inclined to believe he could be somewhat trusted with her son’s life and a moderate spark of hope. The Dark Lord, after all, had done everything he could to kill Draco, both directly and indirectly, and beggars couldn’t be choosers. Despite her name, her reputation, and her Gringotts’ vault, Narcissa had found herself as the beggar of the situation. So she had no choice. Mr Potter had to do.

Afterwards, no one had said anything about the weak wards she’d set up at her cousin’s old home, about the fact that she’d added her allegedly dead son to them, so that he could come in, if he wanted and that she talked about him often with the old house elf. They’d just thought her to be a grieving mother, loyally supporting the cause by granting the use of yet another house. There was always the possibility that Draco could think about reclaiming the house, triggering the safety mechanism embedded in all wards as ancient as those at Grimmuld Place, but she’d never given much thought to it, which was preferred, given her current situation. In the perpetual darkness in which the Manor was enveloped, Narcissa didn’t know if Grimmuld Place truly had disappeared or if Draco had risked being discovered and claimed it. That uncertainty was what allowed her to lie flawlessly to the Dark Lord once again, even under her sister’s watchful gaze.

‘Disappeared?’ the Dark Lord asked, Nagini moving at his feet. The drawing room in which she’d once hosted the most exclusives salon in all of Europe now reeked of blood and putrefied meat.

‘It happens, my Lord, especially with old estates, if the male line of succession dies. My blood-traitor cousin had left the house to Potter, but even when forced to recognise him as master by goblins’ magic, the house must have rejected him, the ancient wards collapsing and making it effectively disappear’ the best lies were always the one closer to the truth, and this one was no exception.

‘Mh… so the noble house of Black remains loyal, even in death. As long as the place can no longer be used by Potter, that is good. Still, are you certain?’ his red eyes were fully on Narcissa, and she felt him skim her mind, through her memories of Grimmuld Place and what she knew about wards theory.

‘Yes, my Lord, I’ve checked personally’ said Bellatrix jumping in, refusing to be sidelined for longer, Narcissa had stopped hoping for sisterly affection long before she’d ended up in Azkaban, ‘the house isn’t where it used to be, the old land on which it was built is empty, and the portrait of my aunt cannot be reached by other portraits either. The pathetic house elf doesn’t come when called either, so he must have been killed by the wards collapsing’.

‘Very well’ the Dark Lord seemed satisfied, his attention turning back to the goblin he’d been torturing.

Narcissa didn’t even dare to sigh in relief, her eyes skimming the room looking for Lucius, finding Severus’ eyes on her instead.

_He knew._


	11. The Refuge

Now that they had more privacy, Draco took his time. He did what he could to keep Hermione in his bed all night, and she never complained. He truly could not help himself, he just wanted her so much he could not even hate her for it anymore. She had pushed the limit of his magic by making him perform the blood wards ritual, and he’d come out stronger for it, aware more than he had ever been of the magic inside him, of his own limits and strengths. His days were spent trying to reciprocate, trying to show her that if she wanted she could do so, so much more than just researching and spending her time between books. It had taken him two days to get her to the last floor of the house where the old training room used by Order, and left untouched by his mother, still was, as Potter and Weasley napped downstair. Even despite his silencing spells, her _bombard maxima_ had shaken the house, the extent of her magic leaving him in awe of her.

‘You can do it, and so much more’ he said before licking a strip from her core to her clit, making her moan.

She turned him on so much it was ridiculous, she could probably take down five Death Eaters at once with her _alarte ascendare_ spell, and all he had been able to do was take off her knickers so he could go down on her right there on the training room floor.

‘I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t use dark magic’ she panted as he sucked on her clit, her hands in his hair, nails scraping his scalp deliciously, making him shiver.

He was going to come in his pants again and he didn’t even care, he didn’t even care how reckless he was being, how much he was giving to her of himself, even if a part of him knew she would leave him behind.

‘You should know some, just in case’ he breathed against her thigh while he slipped a finger inside, then another when she moaned for more. She was so warm and wet, he was going to lose him mind.

‘I shouldn’t, Harry doesn’t…’

‘ _Don’t_ mention Potter while I am fucking you’ he growled biting her thigh hard enough that the imprint of his teeth would remain for days, marking her, moving his fingers a little faster, crooking them against the spot he knew made her lose her breath before he dived back in, her moans while she called his name the sweetest music he’d ever heard.

* * *

If Draco had thought Hermione Granger was trying to make him losing his mind before, he became sure of it when she unexpectedly barged into the bathroom while he was taking a shower.

‘Potter and Weasley?’ he asked while he looked at her amused as she hastily took off her clothes.

‘Arguing about dinner and Quidditch’ she said moving into the shower with him, her hands around his neck, pushing him down so that she could kiss him.

He was barely able to squeeze her ass once before she swatted his hands away and went on her knees before him.

‘Fuck’ was all he could say as she palmed his cock, her eyes never leaving his. She fucking _smiled_ as she took him into her mouth, and just that had him on the edge, her tongue making him go crazy. Her mouth so warm, so wet, her tongue swirling perfectly around him, her cheeks hollowing to suck him more… it was embarrassing how little Draco was able to last, cock twitching when she let him go with a pop, licking her lips.

He had her up in an instant, pressing her against the wall until he made her come, kissing every inch of her body until she laughed and forced him out of the shower so that they could dry up.

It was endearing to see her struggle with her mane, curls wild until he stepped behind her, applying a softening charm so that they could be detangled more easily.

‘You shouldn’t brush them’ he said, and she huffed, annoyed.

‘I know’ she said scrunching her nose. So _cute_.

‘If you let it grow, as it gets longer the weight will smoother the curls, it may be more manageable then’ he said brushing it with his hands, trying not to pull too hard when he encountered a tangle. It barely arrived past her shoulders now, anxiety making her lose more hair than she should have.

‘I know my hair is not great…’ she started to say, and in the mirror in front of them Draco could see how she moved her eyes down, as if ashamed.

‘I like your hair’ he interrupted her.

‘I thought you hated it’ she finally looked up, meeting his gaze in the mirror.

‘I did. It’s wild, like most things about you it just reminded me of everything I couldn’t be, it was just another reminder of how free you were, how much I wasn’t’

She sucked in a breath, and before she could say more, Draco tried to distract her by letting his hands slide down her body, pressing her against him.

‘Don’t occlude, please, please’ she begged him while his fingers worked their way inside her once more.

He didn’t tell her he could never occlude completely with her, and certainly he couldn’t manage it while she moaned his name in his arms, yet he hid his face in her hair anyway.

* * *

‘You need to learn to cast a patronus, in case something happens’ Hermione said, hands on her hips, two weeks after they had moved into Grimmuld Place.

Everyone looked better, with Kreacher cooking and the anxieties of being on the run taken care of, they were all more at ease. As it was extremely rare he didn’t share his bed with Hermione at night, Draco had not felt that relaxed in years, even if he was virtually imprisoned in a house with Potter and Weasley. The two of them were currently sitting down on the carpet in front of the fireplace playing a round of wizarding chess, while he was comfortably stretched on a sofa, a book on protection spells he had found in the Black library in his hands.

‘I cannot cast a patronus, Granger’ he said without even lifting his eyes towards her. It was embarrassing to have this conversation with her so out in the open. He didn’t want to see the pity in her eyes, or worse yet, the disappointment.

‘ _Hermione_. And. It’s rather easy, you just think of your happiest memory…’

‘I don’t have a happiest memory’ he said, jaw clenched, closing the book a little bit too forcefully, trying to run away.

She didn’t let him, of course.

‘Really? What about Quidditch? What about taking the snitch from Harry?’

‘Did that ever happen?’ Potter asked raising an eyebrow, Draco scoffed.

Weasley laughed. Draco could have killed him.

‘ _Granger_ ’

‘ _Malfoy_ ’

‘Just try it! What’s the worst that can happen?’ exclaimed Potter before turning back to his game.

Draco sighed. There was no way out. He took his wand and stood up, closing his eyes so that he wouldn’t have to see Hermione’s victorious smirk turn into disappointment. He thought about his mother, he inevitably thought about Hermione, about his father’s rare smile, and nothing but a puff of silver came out of his wand.

‘Did you…?’

‘I tried really hard, believe me’ he interrupted her.

‘It takes time, I thought it to everyone in Dumbledore’s Army so I can teach you as well’ Potter, who clearly could not keep to himself, said with a smile, and Draco was about to threaten to hex him when something tingled inside him, a tug.

‘Something is slipping past the wards’ he said frowning.

‘What?!’ Potter and Weasley were up in an instant and with Hermione they followed him to the entry hall, wands in hand.

‘Who is it? Your aunt?’ asked Hermione.

‘No, it’s… not a person, it’s…’ he couldn’t describe it, it wasn’t the harsh tug his father had taught him to expect when someone tried to breach the wards, it was a different kind of warning.

A golden mist slipped in from underneath the entrance door, it gathered in front of them, forming a hand that pointed right at Draco.

‘It’s… a blood tracking spell!’ Hermione exclaimed.

‘What?!’ cried Potter, panic setting in.

‘They’re very complicated and hard, very few people can…’ Hermione started to explain as Draco moved towards the door, past the spell, swatting away Weasley’s hands as he tried to stop him.

He steadied himself with a deep breath and then he moved until he could see who it was outside through the peep hole. Draco stepped back and almost fell on the floor while scrambling to open the door, allowing who was on the other side through the fidelio and the wards.

‘Merlin, Morgana and Salazar!’

He moved so quickly Draco had barely time to steady himself before Theo was squeezing him into a hug, holding on to him tightly.

‘I knew you weren’t dead! I knew it! _I knew it_!’ Theo screamed.

Theo had his hands on his face, squeezing his cheeks before patting him down, trying to see if he was all in piece, hurt, until he saw the ugly scar on his forearm and stiffened.

‘Merlin, we were so worried Draco! You just disappeared!’ Blaise exclaimed, hugging him next and dragging Pansy in while Theo’s hand rested firmly on his marred forearm before he joined in the group hug as well.

‘I…’ Draco didn’t even know what to say, let alone what to do, the warmth of the embrace, of their concern, pouring over him like a balm, easing something inside him, mending pieces he didn’t even know had been broken.

‘I tried to follow my father into the Manor but…’ Theo said moving back, swatting Pansy and Blaise away as well so that he could have room to breathe.

‘What?! Are you crazy? You shouldn’t have!’

‘We were _worried_! You just… disappeared! I was so scared!’ Pansy said punching him in the arm, Blaise taking deep breaths next to her until his eyes landed on the people behind him.

‘Oh fuck!’ Blaise exclaimed, eyes wide, but Pansy and Theo’s attention was still on Draco.

‘How did you find me?’ he asked, trying to assess if the three of them were hurt, Blaise with his mouth open, gaping like a fish at Potter.

‘There was an old Quidditch shirt with some blood on it that you left in your trunk, I just picked it up thinking it might become useful’ Theo said, and Draco’s brow furrowed.

Blaise patted Pansy on the shoulder, trying to force her to look towards where he was pointing, unsuccessfully.

‘You managed an incredibly complicated and old blood tracking spell?’ Draco asked impressed and Pansy huffed, crossing her arms.

‘No, not us, but actually, if you remember, I hooked up one summer with the one pureblood that boasted about being able to cast it like it was nothing, only he used, mh… poop, instead of blood, so we _may_ have broken some international laws trying to find him, and we did find him, as he was, too, breaking international laws’

‘Oh no’ Draco said.

‘Oh yes’ Theo sighted, a hand on his shoulder.

‘Hey Drake!’

His American accent was still one of the most annoying things Draco had ever heard, but he wasn’t about to say that out loud to someone who had once landed in front of him riding a dragon. Rolf Scamander was very similar to his late famous grandfather, same sandy hair and warm blue eyes, but he certainly wasn’t skinny. He’d hit puberty running, getting as tall as Draco and wider than Weasley, muscles clear and defined under his clothes. Wondering around with wild beasts and continuing his family tradition of disregarding international law certainly had shaped his figure.

‘You tracked me down with the same spell he uses on animal poop?!’ Draco practically screamed.

‘Guys!’ Blaise cried, trying to get their attention.

‘Holy cow! Is that Harry Potter?’ Rolf exclaimed, smiling and waving like an idiot.

‘Uh’ was all Draco could say before Theo’s hands fisted on his shirt, pushing him down to his eye level.

‘You left _us_ and went with Potter?! _Potter_?!’ he screamed, making Draco flinch.

‘Not exactly, I can explain’ Draco said raising his hands.

‘Can we close the door?’ Potter asked, almost timidly, and Rolf complied, smile still on his face.

‘Who’s that guy?’ Weasley asked pointing at Rolf, who waved at him.

‘Who are you?’ Rolf answered, confusing Weasley.

‘Kreacher made tea for master and his guests!’ Kreacher announced appearing in the middle of the hallway.

‘Let’s have tea, yes, wonderful idea, we can talk in the living room!’ Hermione exclaimed clapping her hands together once to get everyone’s attention, a forced cheerfulness in her tone to diffuse the situation, Potter nodding at her words.

‘Let’s go, Draco’ Potter called and, at that, Theo seemed to vibrate with anger.

Theodore Nott rarely lost his temper, he was quiet while Draco had always been more prone to the dramatic, as Blaise had often remarked. Yet nothing made Theodore _loud_ like being angry, it was the only emotion he couldn’t contain within the careful image of the carefree and sarcastic Slytherin he’d cultivated throughout the years. After so many years of knowing each other, it was crystal clear to Draco how much Theo had been hurt by their world crumbling around them, by Draco betraying his trust, their friendship. Even if he hadn’t, really, it had been for the best, distancing himself from them, even though he was still confused and surprised by fact that they hadn’t stopped looking for him even after he’d been declared dead.

Theo looked at Potter with anger over Draco’s shoulder, and then he moved around him, stepping closer and closer until he could finally point his finger and poke Potter in the chest with it.

‘He’s _my_ friend, Potter. If you have grown tired of Weasley, look elsewhere for a replacement’

‘That’s… not how friendship works’ Potter stammered, eyes wide and cheeks slightly flushed under Theodore’s stern gaze.

They were practically inches away from each other, Potter pressing himself into the wall as if Theo’s finger was pinning him there. It was hilarious, to see Theodore make Potter squirm while Weasley tried his best to glare at them all with his wand in his hand.

‘Whoa, this place is sick’ Rolf said looking around, still smiling, winking at Pansy who just scowled at him.

They finally settled back into the living room, Hermione, Potter and Weasley on one side, Draco on the other, Theo, Pansy and Blaise next to him while Rolf occupied a whole armchair by himself, legs spread wide like the unmannered brute he was.

‘So…’ Potter tried to start.

‘I don’t want to hear it from you’ Pansy snapped, making Draco sigh.

He looked briefly at Hermione and then he started to explain what had happened, trying not to dwell on details that would make them worry too much, explaining how his mother had delivered him to Potter, how they had ended up in Grimmuld Place, leaving out what he knew about Horcurxes. That was something the fewer knew about the better, at least for the moment, one look at Hermione was enough for him to confirm it.

Then Blaise cleared his throat and stood up as he started to recount what had happened to them with a healthy dose of dramatic reenactment, how worried they’d been in sixth year, how the last they’d heard of him, he had been in an accident and was on bedrest, and next thing they knew Dumbledore was dead and Potter was saying it was his and Snape’s fault. An elf from Nott Manor had warned Theo of what was going on, of how the Dark Lord had taken over Malfoy Manor, and they had spent the first few months trying to reach him while hiding in the Manor Blaise had inherited from his third stepfather in Kent before deciding to try a new approach, not believing the reports of his death. They had heard Rolf had been going around North Africa stealing back dragon eggs from poachers since graduating from Ilvermory the year before, so they had pretended to go on a holiday in Italy as an excuse to find him, using several illegal international portkeys. They’d finally found him in Egypt, being chased by at least twenty angry poachers, backpack full of eggs he’d stolen back, and whisked him away before he could get killed. They would have gotten to him sooner, Blaise said glaring at an oblivious Rolf, if _someone_ had not insisted to personally get the various eggs back in their nests through more use of illegal international portkeys.

‘Now that it’s settled. We can leave’ Blaise concluded, and both Pansy and Theo stood up, waiting for him.

Draco cleared his voice, trying to stop his hands from shaking. He really couldn’t remember when he’d become so afraid of being rejected.

‘I’m… helping them’ he said.

Theo’s nostrils flared, his jaw clenched, and Draco knew that expression so well, _betrayal_ , it was painful to see it turned against him.

‘I need to help them, to help my family. But you can stay, it’s safe here, I’ve claimed the house’ he rushed to explain.

‘You claimed the house? That’s…. the wards could have killed you!’ Theo almost screamed. He was the only other person Draco knew of who had been thought how blood wards worked on estates and how they could be claimed, as Nott Manor had wards as ancient as Malfoy Manor.

‘Did you hit your head?’ Pansy asked while Blaise carefully assessed him with narrowed eyes.

Hermione’s silence, more than Weasley’s annoyance and Potter’s tension, was what scared him the most. Draco felt overheated and overwhelmed, trying to find the right words to reconcile the friends he thought he would never see again with the reality of his alliance with the Golden Trio.

‘Well, if you ask me’ said Rolf filling the silence ‘I’m all down for a fight, this Dark Lord dude is creating a bad reputation for magical creatures and such, so I don’t like that. Also, Drake here is my friend’ he added standing up, moving past Theo and Blaise, who glared at him, and putting an arm around Draco’s shoulders.

‘You almost burned me alive when we were nine’ Draco growled in irritation as Pansy rolled her eyes, falling back on the sofa with a huff while muttering something about _men being a mistake_.

‘We were playing!’

‘You smuggled an _actual_ dragon into the Manor!’ he almost screamed, remembering the first and only playdate between him and Scamander when they were nine, not that he could ever forget the day even if he tried to. If it wasn’t for the Dark Lord, that would have easily remained the scariest day of his life.

‘Hey, Milly was a misunderstood creature, she was a delight!’ Rolf answered, as if _that_ was what irritated him the most, the insult to the dragon.

‘Who almost burned me alive’

‘You’re exaggerating!’

‘ _Am I_?’

‘He smuggled a dragon into the Manor?’ Potter asked, his mouth hanging open while Hermione’s eyes were on Theodore, careful and calculating, as if she was studying him.

‘It’s a long story’ Blaise said dismissively, massaging his temples as Pansy looked around the room judging severely every piece of furniture.

‘Fine! _Fine_! We’re helping the stupid trio, too, then!’ Theo exclaimed in the end crossing his arms, anger still lingering in his words.

Blaise and Pansy didn’t even spare Theo more than a glance, no argument coming from them as they seemed more than ready to settle in, once again surprising Draco.

‘Ugh, is there any wine around here? Cigars, maybe? I’ve run of cigarettes’ Blaise sighed.

‘Kreacher!’ screamed Pansy ‘What’s for dinner? How’s the water pressure in this place?’

‘You’re helping us?’ Potter stammered.

‘Yes, yes, whatever, Potter’ Theo huffed dismissively.

Draco gave a small smile to Hermione, and then she disappeared up the stairs with Rolf, Harry and Ron, so that he could choose a room, while Blaise and Pansy went into the kitchen to argue with Kreacher about food and beverages.

Only Draco and Theo remained in the living room, and Draco knew very well why Theo was so angry, snapping easily. Even if Draco himself felt very much broken, Theo had always been the most fragile among them, he was more scared even of Draco to be left behind, alone, his father’s shadow forever looming over him.

‘Did he hurt you?’

Draco had asked him that question for as long as he could remember, always wishing he could do more than healing Theo in the aftermath with spells he’d spent hours looking for in the library.

‘I never went back after you disappeared’ Theo said looking down, and Draco stepped forward, hugging him.

‘That’s good’ he said letting Theo cling to him, his hands fisting his shirt.

He’d occluded so much, spiralled into isolation for so long… Draco thought he could see some glimpse of it now, of how he’d forced himself not to see the truth that had always been in front of his eyes: Theodore’s worried eyes following him everywhere in sixth year, climbing into his bed in the middle of the night, whispering about how they could trust each other, how he could help, and Draco closing himself off more and more, just to try and keep them safe. The only thing that kept the guilt at bay was that it had worked. They were fine.

‘Anything you have tell me?’ asked Theo while stepping away, pretending not to have to dry his tears.

Draco wondered if he had noticed the looks he’d exchanged with Hermione. Maybe he had, but before he could say something, Pansy was screaming for Theo from the kitchen, and Draco never answered.

* * *

The house quickly filled with voices, and thankfully there was enough room for everyone, although no one seemed to notice, or they just pretended not to notice that Draco and Hermione shared one room while the room Hermione was supposed to occupy alone had been completely taken over by Pansy.

‘You and Theodore are very close’ said Hermione one night, she was sprawled on his chest while he played mindlessly with her hair.

‘Yes, we’ve always been. We used to look out for each other a lot, because both of his father and my father… are Death Eaters. Blaise and Pansy came around in third year’

‘I’m glad. I knew they wouldn’t have just left you like that even when you thought they did’ she said, revealing once again how much she saw him.

‘Me too’ he said trying not to think about how nice everything was, how he’d never had something nice for long before it was taken from him, before it turned to ashes in his hands.

Their new routine consisted of trying to contact the rest of the Order without being discovered while he and Hermione kept researching the Horcruxes, debating day after day when they should used the sword to destroy the cup while it still remained with them, before it disappeared, waiting for Potter to decide.

Even the evenings had become more bearable despite Weasley always listening to Potterwatch with a frown on his face, Rolf talking and talking about this or that beast, this or that place he’d visited, asking again and again about Charlie Weasley and his work with dragons as Theo asked him to just shut the fuck up. With Pansy fussing over food and Blaise scowling at the alcohol left over by the Order, they even managed to eat something different from cottage pie or potato mush and sausages every once in a while.

‘I have made ramyeon’ Pansy announced on their second evening there while standing at the head of the table, hands on her hips, clearly pleased with herself. She’d gone with Potter to the muggle store at the corner and came back with bags full of noodles, eggs and vegetables.

The result were bowls steaming and smelling deliciously in front of each of them. Of everyone at the table, only Weasley seemed to be the only one to have problems using the chopsticks Pansy had provided, leading her to huff and laugh as she tired to show him the correct way to hold them and eat the noodles.

It was warm, despite the war, despite the worries and anxieties, despite the light bruise on Blaise’s cheek and the fear that still lingered in Theo’s eyes, Draco found himself reaching for Hermione’s hand under the table. She gave him a soft smile that made his heart flutter.

* * *

Harry had to talk to Ron, it could not be avoided anymore.

In the empty kitchen after lunch, under a muffilato, Harry tried to breach the subject of the possibility of Hermione and Draco becoming a thing. His best friend didn’t take it well, but it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Ron got angry and smashed some plates, then he got sad and shed some tears.

‘Maybe she’ll change her mind, I mean, it’s _Malfoy_ , why would she be interested in him?’ he muttered.

‘Right’ was all Harry could say, wondering how could Ron not notice the way Hermione looked at Draco.

‘I suppose he’s not so bad, but _still_ ’ Ron admitted, frowning.

‘Yes’

‘It’s Malfoy’

‘Yes’

‘Oh, Merlin, you’re okay with it!’ Ron snapped smiling a hand on the table, finally growing tired of Harry’s chipped answers.

It was hard for Harry not to feel guilty, he felt absolutely terrible for not sympathising with Ron. It just… it was hard, very hard, when Hermione looked so relaxed and as happy as one could be during a war. The fact that he liked Draco made it even more hard, not that they would ever have a friendship like the one he shared with Ron but… it was hard. That was without even mentioning the conflicting feeling he’d started to feel towards Ginny, the way he was itching to distance himself from her and all the expectations that came with their relationship.

‘He’s not as terrible as he could be’ Harry tried to say diplomatically.

‘I suppose, but I…’ Ron just groaned pressing his face into his hands.

‘If… if you care for her, just be yourself, be your best self. Love should not be forced and you never know, maybe you’re meant to meet someone else’ he wasn’t good at these kind of talk, he’d never been, and Harry had no idea how to comfort Ron, not when he could barely hold himself together.

‘Maybe. Maybe, it’s just… am I allowed to be heartbroken for a bit? I suppose I messed up, by leaving and all of that…’ Ron muttered, almost asking for permission, making Harry feel even more bad.

‘Sure, it’s gonna be fine’

‘Yeah, thanks mate’ Ron said standing up, making Harry sigh in relief as their talk ended.

After that, Harry tried to go into his room to sleep, but whilst Hermione and Draco seemed to have relaxed even more with the arrival of the other Slytherins and Rolf, he’d only become more tense. More people to worry about, more people that could die because of him, more people that made him question what he wanted if he could be allowed to see an aftermath. It wasn’t just Draco who’d seen his beliefs crumble with the war.

Blaise was funnier than Harry had expected, Rolf almost as obsessed with creatures as Luna, Pansy still mean but with a caring side he’d never thought she could have, and Theodore, even though extremely territorial when it came to Draco, had a smirk that captured Harry’s eyes every time, his dry sarcasm similar to Draco’s yet totally different, bags under his eyes showing that Harry wasn’t the only on having trouble sleeping.

* * *

Harry tiptoed down the hallway, trying to make as little sound as possible so not to wake anyone.

He’d had another nightmare and was in desperate need of a dreamless sleep potion, and he was more than willing to risk waking Malfoy up and getting insulted for a good fifteen minutes for it. There was a faint light coming from underneath the door of the room he’d claimed, and Harry hoped he was still awake. He turned the handle and slipped inside the room quietly, expecting to find Malfoy either in bed or reading by the fire, where Harry would have shaken him awake as gently as possible or endured his gaze of annoyance. Instead, he found himself frozen on the spot, both embarrassment and betrayal making him as still as a statue.

Malfoy was in his bed.

Malfoy was in his bed _with_ Hermione.

They looked surprisingly peaceful, but there was an edge of anxiety in the way they held on to one other, Hermione’s hand fisted in Malfoy’s shirt, her head hidden in the crook of his neck while Malfoy’s arms circled her waist, keeping her on him.

So _that_ was what had been going on. Harry felt betrayed mostly because Hermione didn’t tell him, not because she had picked Malfoy. Immediately after the embarrassment, as they weren’t wearing much under the blanket that covered them, and the betrayal for not having been told, there was jealousy. He was jealous of the fact that Hermione and Malfoy had somehow found comfort in one another and… was it serious between them?

He should have knocked.

Harry walked out as silently as he had foolishly walked in, moving a hand through his hair and making his way down to the kitchen. Even if Ginny was with him, he wasn’t sure it would have helped in making him feel any less alone and scared of his connection with Voldemort. He found himself thinking about Hermione and Malfoy, even if they’d been on opposite sides for so long they matched intellectually, so it wasn’t so surprising that they met halfway after Malfoy let go of the hate for muggleborns.

Harry’s mind went back to the words of his first argument with Malfoy, about how he’d settled down once he’d found the Weasley. Harry loved them, he really did, but he wondered if it had to be that way, if the choices he’d made at eleven were to determine his whole life. He really couldn’t ask for a better family, for better friends, but if there was one thing the war had made him realise was how he longed to be free and explore instead of being forced into roles and on paths that had been thrusted upon him.

‘Well, you look like you _desperately_ need a drink’

Theodore Nott was sitting in the kitchen, a glass of Sirius’ old firewhiskey in his hands, feet on the table.

Harry sighed. Should he care about the table? It was his house after all, even if Malfoy had claimed the wards.

‘I might have caught Hermione and Draco together, I feel like an idiot’ he revealed defeated, tired, Theodore chuckled.

‘Well, I’m absolutely not surprised. Once they’ll settle down they’ll be the most boring yet scariest of couples’ he said moving his wand and serving Harry a glass of firewhiskey as well. He wasn’t sure drinking was wise, but without a potion he was not going back to sleep.

‘Will they?’ he asked sitting next to Theodore, sniffing the firewhiskey and taking a small sip.

He imagined it would taste better.

‘They would spend their evenings reading like the nerds they are after a day of revolutionising magical theory or, in case of Granger, completely restructuring the Ministry, I suppose’ said Theodore laughing at the face Harry had made at the taste of liquor.

‘I see you have their future already planned out’ he commented, more relaxed now that it seemed that Theodore had no intention to hex him for supposedly trying to steal his place as Draco’s friend. He did vaguely remember them being close, as he could recall seeing Theodore at the edge of the Quidditch pitch at every match waiting for Blaise and Draco, eyes full of worry every time someone got hurt much like Hermione had worried for him and Ron.

‘I have to, I have so much money on it since I made a bet with Blaise after we saw the way they looked at each other at the Yule Ball’

‘They looked at each other at the Yule Ball?’ Harry asked frowning into his glass. Merlin, was he really that oblivious to what happened around him?

‘Potter, seriously, are you sure you don’t need new glasses? Those two had their own way of flirt, which was just trying to outdo each other in class. I suppose it would have happened anyway if not for, you know, this whole mess…’ Theodore said gesturing around, filling his glass again.

How much did he had to drink? Why was he here drinking alone in the first place? Harry vaguely remembered Draco alluding to the fact that Theodore’s father had killed his mother and made it look like an accident, and had, probably, tortured his son. It made Harry feel a kind of kinship with him, he never talked about the way the Dursley had treated him too much, but he felt like he could with Theodore. He was sure he wouldn’t receive any looks of pity, any empty words about how sorry he was. It was always so hard, to talk about the way he’d been treated without feeling resentment, without a thousand questions swarming into his mind: why hadn’t Dumbledore ever come to check on him? If he had money in his vault why not allow someone else to take care of him, someone who cared? People rarely comprehended the duality of it, the hate and love for his aunt, the only living link he had to his family, the parting words she’d left him with both easing the pain of years of neglect and hate and intensifying it. He didn’t even realised he’d started talking, perhaps a side effect of drinking too much fire whiskey on an empty stomach, but Theodore was listening, nodding, turning his chair a little bit more towards him.

‘Mh, my father always called my mother a bitch after she died. That’s what they do, Potter, they fuck with your head while trying to justify themselves.’

‘I don’t know, I think my aunt loved my mother, but she was jealous first and then angry when she died, I suppose’ he tried to say, not even convinced of his own words. It was still hard to process, his mother’s life, the snippets he had from it, the fact that she’d been somehow close to Snape, although he still didn’t understand how much, not to mention how his father had been mean in his years at Hogwarts, as mean as Draco had been if not more, until he started to pursue his mother relentlessly.

‘I’m sure my parents loved each other as well at some point, before he showed what a controlling piece of shit he was’ Theo said emptying yet another glass, reaching for the bottle to pour more. Harry should have stopped him, it was too much, he had not even drank half as much and it was already hard to think clearly.

‘Draco did say love is not always a pretty emotion’

‘Ugh, of course he did. He’s a drama queen. But he has a soft heart, even if he thinks he’s unworthy and not a good person, he’ll take good care of Granger, I think they’ll be good to each other. Plus, Draco’s a nice kisser, so kudos to Granger for scoring that’

Harry blinked rapidly, trying to process the words.

‘How do you know?’

‘Potter, what did you lot do in the Gryffindors dormitories? Are you telling me you _really_ just talked Quidditch, or did you get all your excitement from chasing dark wizards and near death experiences? I’m not judging’ Theodore said turning his chair completely towards him, facing him with a wicked smirk.

Harry blushed. He stood up awkwardly on unsteady legs, placing his glass on the counter and trying to look away from Theodore’s examining gaze.

‘Is that… a thing that happens?’

‘Well, Blaise smuggled some wine in with his… what was it? Stepfather number five? He had a vineyard. Well, _Blaise_ now has a vineyard, but we drank too much and you know, when you’re young you just want to experiment. Let’s just say Draco and Blaise were decidedly less marked by the experience than I was’ he explained and Harry heard him get up, moving around the kitchen, every step echoing like thunder in Harry’s head.

‘Oh’ he exhaled, blushing deeply. He’d missed so many normal experiences, he really tried not to think about it.

‘Did you just kiss Cho Chang and the Weasley? Are you… Potter, are telling me you’re a virgin?’ Theo asked, and his voice was as sharp as it had been days before when he’d first come into Grimmuld Place, pointing his finger at him and forcing Harry to back into the wall under his gaze, bronze hair styled in perfect curls that framed his face so well he looked unreal. Had he always been pretty? Harry didn’t have any clear memories of Theodore at Hogwarts, he’d mostly been a vague presence behind Draco, but again, there had always been something going on.

‘Oh Merlin, you _totally are_ ’ Theo chuckled.

‘Don’t laugh, I was…’ Harry turned around offended, ready to defend whatever scrap of dignity he had left, but he couldn’t even finish his sentence.

Theodore was right behind him, just a few steps away, standing casually with his hands in the pockets of his tailored trousers, a black jumper that looked more soft than anything Harry had ever owned, sleeves rolled up. He had the same kind of effortless beauty Draco and Blaise seemed to possess as well, as if it was something it was just handed out in Slytherin.

‘Understandably busy, I am sure’ Theodore said finishing his sentence for him. He cocked his head, his gaze moving up and down Harry’s face, assessing something before he smirked once again, bronze curls shining under the warm light of the kitchen.

Theodore covered the distance between them in two steps, his hands suddenly on either side of him on the counter, effectively caging him in, his face inches away from his and a smirk curving his lips. It was ridiculous that Harry’s first thought was that he needed Hermione’s help. How does one deal with devastatingly charming Slytherins?

‘Well, we’re drunk, and there’s a war, and we’re young, so what kind of ally would I be if I didn’t offer my assistance?’ his breath fanned over Harry’s face, making his swallow loudly.

Harry blinked at him, disoriented by his dark eyes, trying to speak and finding himself unable to do so. His heart was beating faster and faster, his skin itching, almost begging for something he didn’t even know.

In the haze created by the alcohol, by Theodore’s presence, all that Harry could think about was that he wanted to forget for a moment, he wanted to think of the end of the war without seeing his future reduced to other’s expectations of him. He tried to think of his kiss with Cho, how disappointing it had been, how disconnected and terrible he’d felt for trying to get closer to her, so soon after Cedric had died only because he didn’t want to be left behind while everyone around him chased romance. Kissing Ginny had been better, but there was always a part of him that found it unnerving, how obsessed she’d been with him, even after she had dated other people. A part of him knew that his jealousy had not been born from love but from possessiveness, because he didn’t like being the centre of attention, but Ginny’s interest in him had been like a teeter that could link him to the Weasleys forever in a way that even his friendship with Ron couldn’t. It had become increasingly clear in his head that, if they made it out alive, he would need time to himself, to see who he really was, who he wanted to be. Not the eleven years old who desperately wanted a family, not the Chosen One, not even the famous Harry Potter, boy who lived, but just Harry, free of Voldemort, free of Dumbledore’s riddles, free of expectations.

He was the one to kiss Theodore, pressing his lips on his for a moment before Theodore moved away and laughed, the sound both sweet and cold. It was obvious that Theodore wasn’t doing it to be kind, maybe he just wanted to ruin him, get back at him for what he had seen as an attack on his place as Draco’s friend, which was ridiculous, yet Harry didn’t care. He would let himself be ruined, if just for one moment.

‘Let me show you how you kiss someone, Potter’ Theodore said before Harry could shrink from embarrassment, lifting his chin gently with one hand before pressing his mouth against his.

Theodore’s hands were not clumsy as his, and they didn’t stay put for long. They moved into his hair and then down his body while his tongue pushed inside Harry’s mouth, making him moan. There was nothing that resembled the timid touches he and Ginny had exchanged, Theodore was all over him, making him shiver and setting him on fire at the same time. Harry could barely breathe, and it felt amazing.

‘Don’t be loud’ Theodore said pinching his side playfully after Harry had moaned out loud when he had started to suck on the pulse point on his neck.

He tasted like firewiskey, and Harry couldn’t get enough. He tried not to act too much like the inexperienced virgin her was, trying to imitate what Theodore’s hands were doing on his body until he ended up with his erection under his hands, making him jump in surprise.

Theodore stepped back, clearly understanding what had happened even despite the alcohol level in his blood, looking at Harry with both lust and mild disappointment. Before he could say something, before the bubble could burst, Harry yanked him back by the collar of his jumper, feeling Theodore smirk against his lips, his hands now on his back, moving up and down until they reached his butt and squeezed, making Harry whimper and inadvertently rub against each other. They both moaned, and Harry found that it wasn’t hard to forget the world while he tried to chase what felt good.

Theodore pressed him more into the counter, the wood poking into Harry’s back uncomfortably, but he couldn’t care less while their erections rubbed so deliciously against one another through their clothes, Theodore’s hands burning on his skin where they sneaked under his shirt, just like his lips everywhere they touched him, his moans music to his ears, making Harry’s head spin.

When Theodore started to move his hips against him in earnest, Harry’s lost his breath, his head falling back, bearing his neck to Theodore’s lips. He came with a strangled moan, his hands fisting Theodore’s jumper, keeping him close, his mind blank for a moment. It was Theodore who moved away first after he came with a grunt, trying and predictably failing to fix Harry’s hair, kissing him one last time on the corner on his mouth before stepping away.

Harry tired to come back to reality, to process the frenzy he’d felt, the need to be touched and to touch him, and how good the orgasm had felt, better than any he’d ever had on his own. The way Theo had moaned in his ears, against his mouth, _fuck_ , that had felt good as well…

Was he betraying Ginny? They weren’t technically together, and Harry just… he just…

‘Well, that was nice Potter. I hope I could be of help’ Theodore said fixing his hair and his clothes, a small scurgify on his pants to remove the stain his come had left. If it wasn’t for his red cheeks and the signs left by Harry’s nails on his neck, he would have thought him completely unaffected from his tone of voice. Maybe he used some Occlumency too, just like Draco.

‘Did you sleep with Draco?’ the words were out of his mouth before Harry could even stop them. Theodore didn’t seem offended, he just laughed, licking his lips before he answered.

‘Wouldn’t _you_ like to know _that_. You have a crush on him or something? Mind you, he’s _my_ friend’

‘No, I just…’ Harry didn’t even know what to say.

It was all new to him, he’d never felt anything like the want he’d just experienced. He had been horny, too, at times, of course, but there had never been a specific person in his fantasies. He’d seen more couples holding hands or kissing in nooks at Hogwarts that he cared to remember, he’d even read about Oliver Wood and his American boyfriend be hailed as a power couple of Quidditch in the sport section of the Prophet, talked by everyone on the Gryffyindor Quidditch team, but he’d always been too busy with something else to dwell on it, on himself, on what he might want. He just tried his best to be what others wanted him to be, always falling short by being too emotional yet not emotional enough, by lacking knowledge and overworking Hermione… everyone had expected him to be with Ginny, and he’d accepted that, just like everyone had expected Hermione to be with Ron, and maybe it was the weight of expectations that had smothered down his feelings for Ginny, just like his guilt for Cedric had suffocated whatever he’d felt for Cho.

Thinking back to Hermione and Draco, Harry felt more brave, more able to move and reach and take what he wanted for once, even if everything told him it was wrong, to find solace in a Slytherin, in the son of a Death Eater who was a maybe-ally just so he could keep his friends safe.

Could he be selfish? Could he do what he wanted for once without worrying about Dumbledore, his friends, the fate of the Wizarding World? He’d never had the luxury of even entertaining such a thought, it seemed blasphemous to even allow himself to. Yet, he had to take something for himself, otherwise he risked going crazy, or breaking down, and Theodore felt good. He liked the way Theodore looked at him, none of the pity others had given him for how the Dursley had treated him, for his family, none of the burdens or expectation that Ginny had come with, none of the admiration about him being the Chosen One, just dry sarcasm to cover his own hurt, a wicked smirk plastered on his face that Harry just wanted to kiss away. Maybe Theodore liked it too, even if Harry had’t know how to touch him or even how to kiss properly, but if there was anything that could be said in his favour, was that Harry was a fast learner.

‘We should do it again, sometimes’ he said, and Theodore’s eyes went wide with surprise before he smirked, his gaze moving up and down his body making Harry blush. It almost made Harry laugh, the fact that he was being assessed by a Slytherin on whether or not he could be a good shag, and he was letting him doing it.

Harry took because he could, because they had Grimmuld Place back, because he refused to be squashed by Voldemort and the hopeless he wanted to drown him in with the war, because he wanted more, he wanted to be free of the life that had been chosen for him, and he wanted Theodore Nott.

‘Yeah, we should’ Theo said, his smirk turning into a smile, eyes black with lust.

Harry smiled back.


	12. The Storm

Now that they had time, privacy and security, Hermione indulged in it shamelessly.

It was rare if she didn’t spend her nights in Draco’s room, a muffilato to silence their voices to everyone but them. She loved that there could be an afterwards, when she could just lay on his chest and trace the sectumsempra scars with her fingers and then her mouth, trying to commit to memory every part of his body, every expression of his face.

Draco’s lips on her skin were like gasoline, setting her on fire, burning her in the most delicious way. It took Hermione a week to make the decision to simply not to think about it, to just enjoy her time with Draco without wondering too much about what everything meant, about labels or the names of the feelings blooming inside her. They never talked about it anyway, about what they did behind closed doors. They barely touched each other outside of their room, and it was _fine_ , it was. Although somedays it was harder to pretend: like when Ron tried to get her attention and the guilt resurfaced; or when she saw Pansy link her arm with Draco’s, sparks of jealously leaving her irritated for the whole day; or the way Draco and Theodore talked to each other almost conspiratorially, always leaving her on edge.

As Rolf and Blaise started yet another argument in the kitchen about who’s fault it was that Blaise bespoke Italian suit ended up ruined by fire, Pansy in a corner explaining to an irritated Kreacher how to make kimchi pancakes while Ron tried to listen to the radio in the living room, Hermione escaped to the rooftop of the house, London stretching out in front of her eyes, the sky grey and filled with clouds as she breathed in the smell of impending rain.

Draco’s relationship with Theodore didn’t bother her the way his closeness with Pansy did, it was, rather, the way Theodore kept asking Draco if he really wanted to stay with them that made her uneasy. What if Theodore convinced Draco to leave? What then?

Would the lie she kept repeating herself about them being good teammates, good allies, still stand? Or would it all crumble, revealing everything she had kept hidden?

‘Hey’ said Harry making her jump. She hadn’t even heard him walk by lost in thoughts as she was.

‘Hey’ she said back.

They just stood in silence for a moment, but it was obvious by the way Harry was fidgeting that he wanted to say something. She tried to concentrate on the skyline of the city, the sounds of muggles just going about their lives, blissfully unaware of the war, of the danger they were in, the precipice on which they were all standing. Hermione stopped her train of thoughts before she could wonder about her parents.

Harry finally seemed to take courage, he took a deep breath and then spoke.

‘I’m sleeping with Theodore’

‘Oh’ Hermione blinked a couple of times, turning to face him, his words slowly sinking into her brain.

Harry was still fidgeting with the hem of his jumper, hair messy and a light blush on his cheeks, but his eyes were shining with a light Hermione hadn’t seen in a very long time.

‘It just… happened, one night, and I… don’t really want to stop’ he added, blushing even more, looking everywhere but at her, clearing his throat before he spoke again, ‘I know you’re sleeping with Draco’

‘ _Oh_ ’ was all she could say, freezing, her mind suddenly blank, panic setting in.

Was he going to tell her to stop? That he was disappointed, that… ?

‘I’ve told Ron not to go nuts about it’ Harry added, finally looking at her, and it was like Hermione could suddenly breathe again.

‘Thank you’ she exhaled, moving a hand into her hair. They were softer than they had ever been as Draco had taken upon himself to cast charms on them every time they shared a shower, which was fairly often.

Hermione tried to think about what to say to Harry, what could she ask, what could they comfortably share. She was happy Harry seemed to be well disposed to her relationship with Draco, but she still remained reluctant to talk about it.

‘Who would have thought, uh? Both us ending up in the snakes’ bed’ Harry said breaking the silence, a small smile on his lips as he turned towards the city, hands in the pockets of his trousers.

‘It’s not that bad’ Hermione said crossing her arms, looking down at her worn shoes, trying not to blush, trying not to think too much about how nice it was, to fall asleep in Draco’s arms, to wake up and find him right beside her. Someone she could rely on, someone who didn’t mind her fascination with dark magic, her thirst for knowledge, all those little things that before him she had been taught to see as flaws in her personality.

‘It’s really not’ Harry agreed, but then his smile faltered, and Hermione knew what he was thinking about.

‘Are you thinking about Ginny?’ she asked, and he nodded. She wasn’t the only one feeling some guilty for a Weasley, apparently.

‘Yeah, yeah, sometimes, it’s just… I want to take something for myself, it feels like… everyone else has always decided for me’

‘I know what you mean’

‘I like Theo, it feels… freeing. Like there’s no expectations. He actually only expects the worst from me, so it’s refreshing’ Harry was smiling, _really smiling_ , for the first time since… Hermione couldn’t remember, but probably it was the first time since Dumbledore died.

She was glad he could smile while talking about Theodore, but even despite his acceptance, Hermione didn’t feel ready to talk about Draco. She didn’t really want to, even if Harry was her best friend, even if he’d already told Ron to give her more space, she didn’t want to share this with him, she wanted, selfishly, to keep her relationship with Draco for herself, even if it meant she often fell into overthinking. She had given so much to Harry, to the war effort, she wanted that piece of Draco, the side of him that only she could see behind closed doors, to remain just hers, as long as she could have it. So she changed the subject.

‘Me and Draco… we thought we should use the sword soon. On the cup. I know you’re… hesitant, because of the scar and the connection but… how about we think of it as an advantage?’

‘What do you mean?’ Harry asked with a frown.

‘From what you describe of your dreams… It doesn’t seem like You-Know-Who is aware of the connection. What you see are snippets of what he did, you can see through his eyes, so maybe we can gather information, see what he’s planning’ she said and Harry clenched his jaw, unconvinced. ‘I know you don’t know Occlumency, and I know you are afraid he might see something, but let’s try and see what you can discover, what we can gather from it, it’s not like the nightmares will stop anytime soon…’ she pressed on, and Harry seemed to reflect on her words until his eyes suddenly went wide.

‘Oh!’

‘What is it?’ she asked worried.

‘Do you remember… we were here, and… and Mr Weasley got attacked at the Ministry and I saw it, _I saw it_ Hermione, like… like I see _him_ in my nightmares!’ he said, hands in his hair, messing them up even more.

‘Yes, you said you attacked him, but it was the snake, it was Nagini’

‘Yes! You just said…’ he started and Hermione didn’t need for him to finish, the pieces finally connecting in her mind. If Harry could _feel_ the Horcruxes, if he could see through Voldemort’s eyes in his nightmares, could it mean that…

‘Do you think Nagini is a Horcrux?’

‘How could I be able to see with the snake’s eyes if my connection is with _him_? It means that… that maybe _I am_ still seeing through You-Know-Who’s eyes, through Nagini’s eyes, because Nagini has a piece of him inside him, and unlike other Horcuxes, Nagini is a living thing!’

‘It could be! It could be!’ Hermione exclaimed, her mind rushing in a thousand different directions.

‘We need to tell Ron and Draco!’ Harry said excited as he rushed downstairs before Hermione could say anything more, before he could see the horror of a sudden realisation twisting her face.

* * *

It was nice having his friends back, it was better than Draco could have ever imagined, even if it was hard for all of them, in the new reality of war. He could see how Blaise was coping with it by making joke after joke, while Theodore remained in a state of semi-permanent irritation due to the fears he refused to speak about. Pansy was trying to hold on to the part of her family that didn’t want her married to an old creepy Death Eater, trying to find them through the food she was constantly fussing about, while Rolf was the only one unaffected, or so it seemed. It didn’t look like he cared much about anything that wasn’t categorised as a magical beast, which wasn’t surprising as his family always seemed to be equally divided between those who devoted their lives completely to the Ministry or MACUSA or to the care and discovery of magical creatures, no in-betweens.

After spending half of the afternoon in the library with Theo trying to catch up and ease some of Theo’s tension, Draco had left more confused than before. Theo _did_ seem a little bit more relaxed, more like his old self, although Draco couldn’t pinpoint what had prompted that change in the last weeks. The only thing that mattered to Draco was that he was safe, that Nott Senior hadn’t been able to hurt him since before their sixth year started. As his capacity to help his family seemed more and more out of reach, Draco tried to take comfort in the fact that despite everything, his friends were safe, relatively unharmed, at least for the time being.

After they left the library, they moved to the kitchen as Blaise had insisted on having a four o’clock _aperitivo_ before dinner. He’d mixed drinks and served chips and appetisers and tried to make them forget everything about the war, their world crumbling, the possibility of doom, with small talk and the same kind of light conversation they used to share in the dungeons when things seemed easier, when they felt more in control of their lives.

Draco looked between Pansy and Blaise, not at all surprised at the revelation of their friends-with-benefits relationship, of which he had been made aware of because Theo had complained for days about all the kissing and shagging noises he had been forced to endure since they left Hogwarts.

Speaking of Theo, he seemed strangely jittery since they arrived in the kitchen, it was just them, Slytherins, like old times, and it was almost as if there was something he was eager to…

‘I’m fucking Potter’ Theodore suddenly said, and Draco almost chocked on his drink.

Blaise and Pansy didn’t react any better, the first almost dropped the bottle of Campari he was holding and the latter almost fell down her chair.

‘You _what_?’ Draco asked coughing, trying to regain some composure.

‘I’m fucking Harry Potter. Do you need me to make a drawing for you?’ Theo repeated, a small smirk on his face.

If there was one thing Draco had always envied Theo for, was his capacity to go straight to the point and be completely shameless on topics Draco could barely even breach to himself. He still had no idea how tell Theo, or any of them, really, about Hermione. He didn’t even know if he wanted to, it was private, between the two of them, between closed doors. They didn’t even talked about what they did to each other since they’d started that night in the tent, and he really couldn’t think about how he could involve others, especially since Draco had just decided to stop thinking about it, to just take whatever Hermione was willing to give and bask in it until it lasted. He would deal with the fallout afterwards, somehow.

‘Not only a Gryffindor, but _the_ Gryffindor?’ said Blaise finally breathing easily with the bottle of Campari once again secured in his hands.

‘Damn, Theo’ was all Pansy said laying back in her chair, looking at him with clear surprise on her face.

‘Well, the Slytherin Prince over there is fucking the Gryffindor Princess so it’s hardly a novelty’

The glass in Draco’s hand shattered, the remains of his drink spilling on the kitchen table, shards all over the place.

‘You and Granger?!’ Pansy screamed, eyes wide in shock while Blaise looked between him and Theo like they’d both gone mad before taking a seat as if he couldn’t bear to stand any longer.

‘Well, I’m leaving. Fuck you, Theodore’ Draco said cleaning the mess he’d made with his wand before standing up, trying not to panic. They were not angry at him, they were not disappointed, they were surprised, but still, Draco felt exposed, more than he was comfortable being, even with friends.

‘Love you too, mate’ Theo said back smirking.

‘I mean, I knew it was a possibility but _still_ , what the hell got into your two? We literally just got here and you’re already in bed with Gryffindors!’ Pansy exclaimed before draining her drink in a single gulp, pushing her glass towards Blaise asking for more.

‘Not surprised about you and Granger, Draco, but _definitely_ surprised by Theo and Potter!’ Blaise said refilling Pansy’s glass.

‘You’re not?’ Draco asked suddenly confused.

‘C’mon, Draco! We all saw the way you looked at her!’ Blaise huffed pushing the newly filled glass back to Pansy, ‘but Potter, Theo, really? I thought you preferred them taller?’

‘What can I say, green eyes and black messy hair have their appeal, not to mention the fact that he can really put that mouth of his to good use when he…’

‘Please, don’t overshare!’ Pansy begged, and Theo smiled, he _actually_ smiled.

Draco blinked a couple of times, taking in the sight of Theo smiling when he talked about Harry Potter, the affection he could feel in his words behind the teasing, behind the jokes. He was almost convinced to think more highly of Potter because of that, because the fact that he could make Theo smile was definitely Potter biggest achievement in Draco’s eyes.

‘What’s up? Can I get a drink too?’ Rolf said walking into the kitchen with Ron.

They’d spent the afternoon trying to contact the Weasley twins, who supposedly ran the Potterwatch station, and were clearly unsuccessful given Weasley’s sour mood.

‘I can’t believe I slept with him’ Pansy said with a sigh as Rolf sat down next to her, legs sprawled wide open, not so subtly readjusting his pants.

‘To be fair, you said he has an eight pack, and you _also_ said he was rather big…’ Theo started to say with a smirk before Pansy glared at him.

‘Maybe you have a thing for dirty…’ Blaise chimed in.

‘Do not finish that sentence Blaise Zabini’ Pansy exclaimed steading up ‘Salazar only knows how I didn’t kill you two, don’t leave me alone with them anymore, Draco’

Ron was shoving in his mouth more chips than Draco could realistically believe could fit in one person’s mouth as Rolf watched him impressed, once again completely disinterested in any discussion that wasn’t about magical creatures, even if he was at the centre of it. Rolf had agreed to help in trying to contact the rest of the Order simply because he wanted to meet Charlie Weasley, as apparently he had complaints about how his Romanian sanctuary sold dragons to various Gringotts branches, where they would be forced in chains underground, guarding the biggest vaults. Draco couldn’t really dismiss his argument as he had seen first hand how dragons were treated by goblins the few times he had gone to the Malfoy or Black vaults with his mother or his father.

He was about to say something in answer to Pansy when Hermione and Potter barged in, Kreacher appearing and then disappearing from the kitchen the moment he felt Pansy’s eyes on him.

‘We’ll be back’ Potter said grabbing Draco’s arm.

‘Ron, c’mon!’ Hermione huffed, and Weasley scrambled to get up, but not before shoving more chips into his mouth.

As they run upstairs into the room that housed the small Black library, Hermione and Potter started to talk so fast Draco almost had trouble keeping up, explaining their idea about Potter’s connection to the Dark Lord and Nagini.

‘Nagini is never far from him, that is true. I never… I never imagined that could be why’ Draco said once they were done with their explanation. His eyes were on Hermione, that seemed less excited than Potter at the possibility, something clearly troubling her.

‘I thought he just liked… snakes’ Ron said shrugging ‘you know, Slytherin and stuff’

‘What were you thinking?’ Hermione asked, and Draco clenched his jaw unconsciously.

‘I thought he was trying to replicate some old magic, like the one that once witches and wizards used to have familiars’

‘Familiars?’ asked Potter.

‘Yes, it was a kind of bonding that could be formed, a rather strong one, and the animal would look out for the owner, sense danger. It still happens in a way, wizarding folk still bond with the animal they choose for Hogwarts but it’s not as strong, and for some it doesn’t happen at all’

‘Like Crookshanks!’ Hermione explained as Weasley made a displeased expression at the name.

‘So Nagini could be a Horcrux, he can be killed but he’s always close to You-Know-Who’ Harry said thinking out loud.

‘We should destroy the cup soon’ Draco said ‘before the sword vanishes again, if we remain without it… ‘

‘Only at Hogwarts we can find Basilisk venom’ concluded Hermione, ‘and it would be insanely dangerous with the Carrows and Snape controlling the school’

‘About that’ Draco said taking a breath ‘I was reading something before, and mind you, this is just speculation. As we have already established the Dark Lord used personal objects for Horcruxes, but also relics from both Hufflepuff and Slytherin, it’s not unlikely he has used one from Ravenclaw, too’

‘What’s something Ravenclaw that could be important?’ Potter asked on the edge of his seat while Weasley tensed.

‘Rowena Ravenclaw’s diadem’ Hermione said ‘In Hogwarts: A History, it’s mentioned how it was one of her most valuable possessions…’ she explained, and Draco stood up from his chair, moving a hand in his hair nervously before crossing his arms. Since Theo, Blaise, Pansy and Rolf barged in, since his new-found closeness with Hermione, he had lowered his Occlumency walls involuntarily, and things… memories had come back, snippets he could now remember as they weren’t buried under the pristine walls he maintained to keep his mind in check.

‘Occlumency can… make you forget things, sometimes’ he said carefully, trying not to look at Hermione ‘I don’t remember much of my sixth year because of that, my Occlumency wasn’t that good and some things just got… lost. However, I spent so much time in the Room of Requirements, trying to fix the Vanishing Cabinet…’

‘Is that where the diadem is?’ Hermione asked standing up, and Draco stepped back unconsciously, as always trying to manage her expectations.

‘I’m not sure. There’s… lots of stuff in there. But there were definitely jewels, a crate overflowing with them actually, three rows away from the Cabinet’

‘How can we know it’s in Hogwarts? He gave all the others to other people, the diary to Malfoy, the locket to Regulus and the cup to Bellatrix’ Weasley pointed out, and Draco agreed with him.

‘I could sense it, if it’s close enough’ Potter said with the resolution that always anticipated some insanely dangerous idea of his.

‘Harry! It’s too risky!’ Hermione exclaimed.

‘I know but…’

Before they could start to argue again, Draco spoke again.

‘I don’t know for sure if the diadem is in the Room of Requirements. I just thought it was worth to mention it because out of all them, the diadem was something I’ve heard about before. Blaise took a Ravenclaw girl to the Yule Ball and a couple of drinks in she started to talk about how the diadem granted wisdom and knowledge, how it was rumoured to be inside the castle, something to do with the Baron killing Rowena’s daughter’

Potter and Weasley’s expression soured, while Hermione seemed to relax a bit.

‘That still just makes six Horcruxes’ Draco added ‘the diary, the ring, the locket, the cup, maybe the diadem and the snake. If he was aiming for seven to get more power out of the process, we are still missing one. He cannot be killed if we don’t figure out the last one’ as he said that, Hermione went pale, looking down at her shoes, almost shutting down in a way that made Draco extremely worried. He’d never seen her like that.

‘It could be something linked to Gryffindor, it’s the only one missing’ Weasley exclaimed as Potter nodded.

‘I’m not sure. The Dark Lord is obsessed with the founders but he has always disliked Gryffindor, Pettigrew is barely tolerated and as far as objects precious to the founders go, the one left by Gryffindor is the sword, and it’s clearly not an Horcrux’ Draco said.

‘How about we sleep on it?’ Hermione said standing up, trying to end the conversation.

Draco watched as she convinced Potter and Weasley to go downstairs and then closed the door of the library, a muffilato to silence the room.

‘What is it?’ Draco asked walking towards her, his hands hesitating for a moment before cupping her cheeks, tilting her face up so he could look at her.

There was fear in her eyes, anger, regret.

‘Hermione’ he said, and she started to cry silently, her hands moving over his.

‘Harry can see through Nagini because the snake has a piece of You-Know-Who inside of him. Harry can see through You-Know-Who eyes, in his mind. But how can he do that? What connection can he and You-Know-Who possibly share? I have asked myself this question for so long, and the more I research and learn about Horcruxes the more only a single answer can explain it’ she said, shaking, and Draco didn’t need her to finish.

‘Potter is a Horcrux?’ Draco asked in a murmur, and Hermione nodded, tears streaming down her face.

‘It could have happened when he tried to kill him, it must have been created involuntarily, when the killing curse bounced back, although I’m not sure how’ Hermione said through the tears, pushing forward until she was in Draco’s arms, he face hidden in his shoulder, his arms around her.

‘My mother used to say that, sometimes, witches who are in danger can involuntarily perform very strong protection magic to keep their children safe. Lily Potter’s sacrifice could be the reason the curse bounced back, she gave up her life trying to protect her son’

That didn’t seem to comfort Hermione in any way, understandably, as they both knew what it meant. If Potter really was an Horcurx, then he needed to die.

‘Do you think Dumbledore knew?’ Hermione asked pushing herself away from him, drying her tears away, her eyes now cold and full of anger at the mention of the old Headmaster.

‘This, the snake and diadem are just speculation, let’s focus on what we know, on destroying the cup and…’ Draco was speaking, trying to comfort her when a sharp tug in his chest made him frown.

‘Draco?’

‘Okay, now someone is really trying to breach the wards’ he said making for the door.

They rushed downstairs and everyone was already in the entry hallway, the door rattling from time to time showing that someone was still trying to come in. Draco moved forward and stopped surprised when the door opened and Kreacher appeared.

‘Master Black’ said the elf, grumpy and annoyed, closing the door behind him ‘Dobby is outside, Dobby is looking for Master Potter. Dobby is kept out by the fidelio charm, will Master Black let him in or should Kreacher kill Dobby?’

‘No killing!’ Potter screamed.

Draco looked back at Potter, suddenly remembering he had a weird connection with the elf who’d once belonged to his father, and after exchanging a look with Hermione he moved forward.

‘I’ll go take him in in’ he said walking outside with Kreacher.

Dobby was indeed outside, at the edge of the steps that led up to house, and Draco wondered if elves were able to see past the fidelio of if Dobby could find them without a problem because he’d belonged to his family before, or maybe he had found them because Kreacher had answered his call and then argued with him. But all those thoughts were wiped from Draco’s mind as he saw _who_ Dobby was holding hands with: a clearly wounded Ollivander and a bruised Luna Lovegood.

‘Kreacher, help Lovegood’ Draco said rushing for Ollivander, helping the old man up the stairs before muggles could notice them, using his wand to try and erase as best as he could the traces of their apparition before rushing inside.

As he went in, Rolf was already helping Lovegood towards the living room as Potter and Weasley crowded her. Blaise, Pansy and Theo just followed them worriedly as he helped Ollivander on one of the sofas, Hermione already taking potions out of her bag and performing diagnostic charms to see their conditions.

‘It’s not too bad’ Hermione said trying to ease the tension of the room, her eyes still red from crying in the library as Ollivander groaned where he was on the sofa. Of the two of them, the old wand maker seemed to be the one who was hurt the most.

Dobby remained in the centre of the room, Kreacher clearly displeased by the presence of another elf in what he considered his own domain, and becoming even more grumpy as Potter kneeled in front of the younger elf, asking what happened.

‘Dobby was allowed into the Manor by Mistress Malfoy’ the elf said and the potion in Draco’s hand slipped from his fingers, shattering on the floor.

His mother was engaging in full blown treason, she was going to get discovered, and if she got tortured, if she died, he…

Theo’s hand was on his shoulder, cleaning up the mess on the carpet with his wand and handing Draco another potion, grounding him as he moved to stand near Hermione.

‘Mistress Malfoy said I were to take them to Harry Potter, Mistress Malfoy said she was friend with Harry Potter, that she knew where he was. Dobby didn’t trust at first, but Mistress Malfoy said to find Kreacher, and Dobby found Kreacher’ the other elf seemed less than pleased by that. ‘Dobby is so happy to see Harry Potter!’

‘How… what happened?!’ Potter asked as Hermione gently held Ollivander’s head, helping him drink.

Draco tried to focus, tried to occlude as much as he could to stop the panic.

‘Oh, I was captured’ Luna said answering Potter, as if she’d been just slightly inconvenienced instead of imprisoned by Death Eaters ‘they weren’t too cruel to us, or at least to me, just some scraps, but mister Ollivander was tortured by You-Know-Who until he found the wand he wanted. Then one day Draco’s mother came in. Mister Pettigrew was in charge of keeping an eyes on us, and while she looks very sweet, she also used very harsh words, like how ashamed Mister Pettigrew should be for having betrayed his friends, for trying to kill their child. In the end she convinced him to free us and allowed Dobby to come in and bring us here. Although I think mister Pettigrew was killed because of it’

Ollivander groaned again, he was as pale as a sheet and Draco handed Hermione another blood replenishing potion.

‘Dobby who told you to go to Malfoy Manor?’ Potter asked.

‘Hogwarts’ Headmaster told Dobby to go. Dobby was in the kitchens where Harry Potter said Dobby should be. Dobby couldn’t refuse, Harry Potter said Dobby should listen to Hogwarts’ Headmaster’

‘Snape is onto this? Snape?!’ Blaise was so shocked he just let himself fall on the sofa while Theo was looking at the elf with a frown on his face.

‘At this point I have no idea of what’s going on’ Pansy said lingering in a corner of the room, her eyes briefly on Lovegood before she tried her best to ignore all that was happening, the discomfort she felt by seeing the consequences of the war clearly written on her face.

‘Okay, okay, let’s try to regroup and see what we know’ Potter said as Draco just focused on giving Lovegood and Ollivander the right potions and assisting Hermione with spells, he didn’t really want to think about his parents being in danger. He’d tried to ignore reality for weeks, but eventually reality had found him again. His family was in danger and they needed to move forward with the Horcruxes…

‘You have your father’s hair, but your eyes are really from your mother’ Lovegood said, and it was the first time she spoke to Draco, and she did so as if it was perfectly normal to find him with the Golden Trio.

‘Do we know things?’ Theo asked with a raised eyebrow as Weasley fidgeted next to Potter, clearly trying to think about what to do and how to help.

‘Snape and Narcissa may be working together?’ Potter said, but it was more of a question, one that chilled Draco to the bone. He needed to think, he needed to be rational about this. His mother was doing something, moving pieces, trying to give him an advantage, maybe sending a message…

‘Yeah, that isn’t much, Potter’ snapped Pansy.

‘If Snape is in on this’ Draco forced himself to say, trying to stay calm by concentrating on Hermione’s wand moments, the way Ollivander breathed easier and easier with each spell that left her lips. ‘Then we may be able to get inside Hogwarts’

Potter didn’t say anything, but Hermione halted her movements to give him a stern look. She didn’t like the idea, and he didn’t like it either, but what choice did they have? Going back to Hogwarts seemed every day more inevitable. They couldn’t hide in Grimmuld Place forever.

‘Hogwarts? What are you idiots planning?’ Pansy asked.

Potter wasn’t looking at Hermione, nor at Draco or Weasley or Pansy, he was looking at Theo, eyes wide and brain practically smoking as he tried to think. Draco pretended not to see, not to be surprised by how Theo seemed worried for Potter.

‘Let’s wait until Luna and Ollivander recover’ Potter said in the end.

* * *

It did’t solve anything.

The atmosphere in Grimmuld Place remained tense for the rest of the evening and for much of the next day, up until Luna woke up and was able to walk downstairs on her own. Ollivander was old, he had barely survived the Dark Lord torture, so he remained in bed as Kreacher and Dobby looked over him taking turns, keeping Hermione updated on his condition. She insisted he wasn’t in critical condition, that he would be able to recover, but he needed weeks, if not months, of bedrest.

After Luna arrived downstairs, they all gathered in the kitchen. Draco sat next to Hermione, not caring about anything since the news of his mother newest move had made his anxiety skyrocket. With their thighs touching under the table, Draco tried not to be too obvious as he reached for Hermione’s hand while Potter started to tell everyone about the Horcruxes and what they needed to find at Hogwarts, why going was necessary. It had been hard to agree to tell everyone about it, mostly because Weasley didn’t trust the Slytherins, but Potter was eager to tell Theo.

Draco could see Blaise and Pansy becoming more and more uncomfortable the more Potter spoke, clearly not wanting to have much to do with it, while Theo’s eyes remained on Potter the whole time, his jaw clenched almost painfully. Draco had agreed with Hermione not to talk to anyone about their speculations on the last Horcrux, but he couldn’t stop worrying about the fallout. They’d suddenly become so intertwined with the Gryffindors it was impossible for them not to come out wounded in some way.

‘I’ve heard about the diadem’ Luna said in the end ‘it is in the school, the ghost of the Grey Lady told me so some years ago’

The information shifted something in Potter’s gaze, and it was clear that his mind was set. No amount of complaining from Hermione would stop him form going this time.

‘You don’t have to come, you could stay here’ Draco said to Blaise and Pansy, because it was clear from the way Theo looked at him and Potter that he would insist to come.

‘It seems risky, Draco’ Blaise said, and Draco could not disagree about that.

‘It is, but I can’t leave my mother alone’

‘Right’ Blaise muttered.

‘It won’t change anything if you stay back’ he added, but Blaise shook his head.

‘I’m not sure that’s true’ sighed Blaise while Pansy looked everywhere but at them.

‘You’re all a bunch of idiots’ she said in the end ‘we already broke international law, ran from poachers, and got way too close to dragons’ nests to find you. I’d like to save my skin, but it’s not like we’ll be fine whatever happens, that is not… how things will go, no matter who wins’ Pansy said with a sour expression on her face.

‘I agree’ Blaise nodded.

‘In for a penny, in for a dime!’ Rolf exclaimed with a smile on his face as Weasley scowled at him and his cheerfulness.

‘So… how do we do this?’ Blaise asked laying back into his chair, taking a cigarette from his breast pocket and lighting it up with his wand.

‘We’re not going without a plan’ Hermione said, firm, eyes hard.

‘Hermione, every plan we make always goes wrong, and…’ Potter started to complain, but Hermione stood up, hands on her hips, eyes hard.

‘Harry James Potter! We _are not_ going back to Hogwarts without a plan! The school is full of Death Eaters and Dementors and I would like to do my best to make sure we don’t get everyone killed!’

* * *

The plan took weeks to refine, the spring air becoming warmer and warmer until April rolled in, finding them bent over a kitchen table now covered in huge sheets of parchment over which Blaise, with a surprising help from Ron, had drawn as detail a map as it could be possibly done by memory of Hogsmade and Hogwarts. Still, it was hard to find a way inside the castle, and the tunnel from the Shirking Shack was not a possibility either, as they needed to get directly inside the castle without being found.

‘I know there’s a tunnel that goes straight in, but I just cannot remember’ Harry said putting his head in his hands, ‘I gave the Marauder’s map to Ginny’

Hermione tried to remain calm, she tried to concentrate on the things she could control: helping Ollivander regain his health, researching more about Rowena and her diadem with Luna, keeping Draco close to her at night, trying to be considerate of Ron, not too jealous of the way Pansy touched Draco so easily in a way she never allowed herself to do outside of their room…

‘What do you think of Potter and Theo?’

‘What?’ Hermione turned towards Draco, his question distracting her from the worries that plagued her mind.

She was sitting in an armchair near the fireplace in their bedroom, the sun going down outside, the light lingering longer and longer as summer approached. She must have read the page in front of her at least a dozen times, yet she could not even say what the book was about. Draco was sitting at the foot of the bed, hair still dump from his shower, just his boxers on.

‘Potter and Theo. Thoughts?’ he repeated, and with the look he gave her, she didn’t know if he had seen her worry, if he was trying to distract her. She appreciated it anyway.

’They seem… to like each other’

‘Yes’ Draco agreed crossing his arms, the scars stretching on his torso catching her eyes. She wanted to erase them, tell him he didn’t need to be weighted down by his past anymore. She wanted to kiss them, and tell him that they were just proof of what he’d been through, of who he’d become.

‘Theodore seemed to move pretty quickly from threatening to kissing’ she forced herself to say.

To be fair she hadn’t considered Harry’s relationship with Theodore too much taken as she was by her own worries, by her own messy feelings and trying, as she always did, to clean up whatever plan was put forward so that no one died.

‘I think he tried to make fun of Potter and it backfired, I didn’t really inquire on the specifics of it, although he mentioned a long talk between him and Potter about shitty relatives and such’ Draco cocked his head as if he was trying to solve a complicated arithmancy problem, it made Hermione smile.

‘Are you worried?’ she asked closing the book, giving up on finding her concentration again.

‘I suppose they are an odd couple’ he said in the end and Hermione had to bite her lips, the reply dying on the tip of her tongue.

_’So are we’_ , she wanted to say, but they weren’t a couple, weren’t they? Although… Although it felt like… it felt like they were, sometimes, it felt…

‘As long as Theo is happy’ Draco concluded standing up.

In a moment he was in front of her, helping her up.

‘Let’s go and rest, you look tired’ he said brushing a lock of unruly hair away from her face.

‘We’ll miss dinner’ Hermione said with a sigh, but she did feel tired, she’d unconsciously clenched her jaw for so long her teeth hurt. She wanted nothing more than to climb into bed with Draco and fall asleep with his arms around her.

‘They’ll survive one dinner without us’ he said moving them gently towards the bed and then slowly taking off her clothes, cupping her cheeks and kissing her deeply.

She’d been worried, before the other Slytherin arrived, that he would eventually grow tired of her if she wasn’t up to have sex every day, which was perhaps one of the stupidest notions Hermione had ever unintentionally internalised. Draco seemed more than content to just spend their nights together even just by reading side by side in bed. It was troubling how much that far exceeded every expectation she’d ever had about men, especially because most of her expectations had been focused on Ron.

‘You know I would tell you if it was a stupidly dangerous plan’ Draco said caressing her cheek and Hermione sighed.

So he did know what he was doing.

‘I know’

‘You can use Pansy a a guarantee, she won’t do anything that isn’t for her own benefit’

‘Very funny’

‘Funny? It’s the truth!’ he said with a smirk, trying to cheer her up, but it didn’t work.

‘Harry was right. Everything always goes wrong, somehow’ Hermione couldn’t help herself, she sulked a bit. Things always seemed to wrong, the Department of Mysteries, the Three Wizards Tournament, and so on and so on.

‘What are you talking about? Everything always goes your way’ Draco was almost laughing at her, incredulous.

‘That’s not…’

‘ _I know._ But didn’t you always make it out on top?’ his voice was softer, soothing, he wasn’t making fun of her, he was trying to make her see the bright side of things. They did, in a way, always pull through, but she was terrified of what it would cost them. She wasn’t as willing to pay the price of victory, not as she had once been. The only thing she could do was trying to plan and prepare for the worst, making sure she was ready.

‘We did, somehow’ she agreed.

‘Not somehow’ he said, his finger tapping gently at her temple.

He meant _her_.

Hermione could not help herself, she blushed, her cheeks turning red while Draco’s silver eyes shined with pride. Merlin, this man, she really, really…

‘Thank you’ Hermione said softly, stopping her own thoughts before they strayed too far, raising up on her tiptoes to kiss him. ‘If we go to bed now we wake up early tomorrow’

‘That’s fine with me’ he said pushing back the covers and laying down, opening his arms to her.

* * *

The days began to blend together the more the plan took form.

While Draco thought he was doing a mostly fine job trying to remain calm and collected, Hermione became more anxious by the day, spending the nights tossing and turning in bed, incapable of sleeping until she finally huffed and reached for the draught of the living dead he left on her beside table, a ‘just in case’ that had become a routine. He always tried to get her to relax with other methods, but as the time to leave approached, it became almost physically impossible for Hermione to relax. Draco could do little more than brew and then dilute the potion for her, so that she wouldn’t be too drowsy after waking up.

‘We can do this’ he said to her, almost every hour, squeezing her hand, keeping her close, but even as she nodded, Hermione’s mind never stopped spiralling into worry. Draco understood, it was an extremely risky move, even with all their planning.

Weasley had managed to send some encrypted messages to his brothers through the radio, but it was unclear if they had received them, if they would show up. As Draco had learned, the Order had stopped using patronuses to communicate after the Ministry fell, as the message could be heard by anyone who was nearby the recipient. That made communication with the Order almost impossible.

The plan itself was quite simple: if the Dark Lord was really just three Horcruxes away from death, four if Potter indeed was one, luring him into Hogwarts could work to their advantage. As Draco and Theo had pointed out at the very start of their plan-brainstorming sessions, Hogwarts had extremely intricate, old and powerful wards which could hold their own against a sustained and powerful attack. If, as Potter said, the Dark Lord would lash out as soon as the cup was destroyed, Hogwarts was the best place they could be. Not only they would be protected and close to the next Horcrux that needed to be destroyed, but they would also force the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord in a difficult position, as the terrain around the school wasn’t optimal for a siege. The wards would hold up long enough for them to figure out how much the Dark Lord would be weakened by the cup and the diadem being destroyed, and they would also give them precious time to plan how to get to Nagini while simultaneously wearing out Death Eaters as they tried to break through.

If Weasley had communicated everything correctly, and if the message had been received, the Order would contact Ginny Weasley before coming to Hogwarts to help them hold it. But it all relayed on having the current Headmaster on their side as they needed Snape not only to look the other way as they entered the school, but also because as Headmaster he was the one who effectively controlled Hogwarts’ defences. Draco had volunteered to go talk to Snape, but Hermione had shot the idea down immediately.

‘We don’t know what his relationship with Narcissa is, he could be double crossing her’ she’d said, filling the kitchen with tension.

‘I could go’ Theo said before Draco could answer her, earning a worried look from Potter. ‘As I am not declared dead, it would be easier to approach him. For all they know I escaped with Blaise and Pansy, so he won’t think I am with you. I could lie and say I finally listened to my father and came back’

‘That’s a good point’ Draco admitted, and so it had been settled.

Once they entered the castle and reach the Dumbledore Army which Potter was absolutely certain Ginny Weasley and Longbottom were leading, Blaise and Pansy would manage the evacuation of the younger students by having the elves at Hogwarts apparate them out of the castle and into one of Blaise’s stepfathers’ old manor, where the elves would then keep them safe.

The problem on which Hermione’s anxiety had fixated, all of their anxiety had fixated, and which made Weasley mutter _bollocks_ at least twenty times a day, was how to get to the castle. Without Potter’s famous Marauders’ Map, their options were extremely limited.

‘The best we can do is apparate outside of Hogsmade and slowly make our way up. We have no choice’ said Potter, and Hermione grimaced.

‘We would be very exposed’ Weasley said, and Draco nodded in agreement as Theo sighed.

‘Concealment spells won’t work if they have alarms spells around the village’ Hermione pointed out.

‘But if we go before dusk, the spells won’t be on as it won’t be curfew yet’ Draco said while moving closer to Hermione, not really thinking about the fact that they had an audience as he took her hand in his so that she would stop biting her fingernails bloody.

Weasley’s sour expression was uncomfortable to bear, but as Hermione leaned more into his side, Draco decided that he didn’t care.

‘Dementors will be starting to come out at that hour’ Theo said making everyone around the table pale, ‘and if they sense us, when those us who can summon a patronus cast one, we will be discovered anyway’

‘We have no choice’ Potter exclaimed slamming his hands on the table, his hair even wilder than usual, ‘we _need_ to find the diadem, and we _need_ to get into the school to talk to the Grey Lady. We know the grounds better than the Death Eaters, and we could… we could do short apparations, quick, instead of running up to the castle. If the twins have passed the message to Ginny, she will know how to let us in through one of the passages once we reach the gates. Once we’re close enough we’ll be able to send a patronus to her and Neville so they can come out to meet us. Ron will send another encrypted message to the twins via the radio two hours before we leave, so maybe they can meet us.’

‘This is too risky, I don’t like it’ Hermione complained, and everyone agreed with her, Draco could see it on their faces, but no one said anything. It felt as if they were cornered. They were.

‘This is the best we can do, and we can’t stay here forever. Snape is working with Narcissa as of _now_ ’ Potter said, his eyes and voice softening as he took in Hermione’s tired and worried gaze ‘we must seize the opportunity. If they really sent Luna our way, then Snape might know we may come to the castle soon, he might be encouraging it’

‘It could be a tra...’

‘Don’t say it, Granger! Don’t jinx it!’ Pansy suddenly snapped before stalking out of the kitchen.

Blaise let out a deep sigh before taking out a cigarette. He’d started to smoke continuously and Draco was glad that at least they were wizarding cigarettes, more healthy than the muggle kind.

As Potter and Weasley started to talk about contacting the Order and the Weasleys again, Theo hoovering close to Potter, Draco took Hermione’s hand and led her out of the kitchen, thinking of taking her up to the library and conjure a sofa for her to nap there since the smell of books always calmed her. He wasn’t surprised to see Rolf and Lovegood come out of the living room smiling and chuckling, the two had been talking about magical creatures almost non stop since the Ravenclaw had recovered.

‘Ah! Drake!’ Rolf called, and Draco tried not to show his displeasure about the name too much.

His opinion of Rolf had improved solely because his nonsense talk forced Hermione’s brain to concentrate on said nonsense, distracting her from her anxiety.

‘I have an idea about how to protect Hogwarts and buy us time, I was talking to Luna about it and she has confirmed a couple of things I was wondering about. But I might need to leave you for a while, I’ll come to the school later’ Rolf said with a smile that made Draco’s narrow his eyes.

’That never leads to anything good’ he said as Hermione huffed a laugh next to him.

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about’ Rolf seemed truly confused by his words, and that made Draco worry even further.

‘Is this about some kind of _beast_?’

‘Maybe’ he admitted. Draco sucked in a breath before speaking again.

‘Merlin, I cannot believe I am saying this but _fine_ , okay, _go_ , be careful, I suppose. You’re an agent of chaos but maybe we’ll need that’ he said and Rolf smiled before launching himself at him for a bone crushing hug that took the breath out of Draco.

’I’ll be great, you’ll see!’ Rolf exclaimed looking at him and then at Hermione with excitement in his eyes before tuning towards Luna again, ‘So what were you saying about Prosklys?’

‘They live in drawers which no one has opened in years’ Lovegood explained with shining eyes.

‘What do you think he has in mind?’ Hermione asked as soon as Rolf and Lovegood were out of earshot.

‘I don’t even want to think about it. As long as it doesn’t eat _us_ I’m okay with whatever’ he admitted making Hermione laugh.

‘You really need to tell me about the dragon at the Manor! What did your father say? How did he smuggle it in?’

There was a spark of light in Hermione’s eyes that he hadn’t seen in days, and Draco refused to let it go. He wanted to see that smile, that light, everyday, bottle the sound of her laugh and… the thought alone scared him, but he pushed the fear down, concentrating on the present, on his fingers laced with Hermione’s.

‘Well, what you need to know first is that having Newt Scamander as your grandfather means you get the weirdest Christmas presents, like an old suitcase in which you could find a dragon egg. You could also hatch said egg and raise a dragon in said suitcase’ he said leading her up the stairs, her eyes flashing with curiosity.

‘I suppose that suitcase was bigger than my purse?’

‘Oh, Hermione. You would _love_ that suitcase’

* * *

The plan was to destroy the cup right before they split up, apparating in groups of two around Hogsmade: him and Hermione, Blaise and Pansy, Theo and Potter, Weasley and Lovegood, so that they could then conceal themselves and make their way up the castle while the Dark Lord’s rage kept the Death Eaters occupied. The only thing they would have to worry about were the Dementors that circled Hogwarts, dozens of them, according to Potterwatch.

Before they could do any of this, of course, Draco had to concede that Hermione was right when she said nothing ever went their way.

‘The sword is gone’ she said rushing down the stairs one hour before they were scheduled to leave.

‘Fuck’ Blaise muttered taking out another cigarette as Pansy tried not to look too worried, going pale as a sheet.

Theo became as stiff as a piece of ice, and Potter, between him and Weasley, frowned.

’The Basilisk’s fang, in the Chamber of Secrets’ was all Potter said, and Draco sighed.

There was tension in the air, they all knew that despite the sword disappearing they would not change their plans. Lovegood looked strangely upset, more so that she’d been even after having been imprisoned in the Manor, and all because Rolf had left two days before to look for Merlin knew what. There was also the slight problem created by Theo and Potter’s fight the night before. Draco hadn’t inquired about what it had been about, he’d simply casted a muffilato on their room as they’d forgotten to do so and almost woken up Hermione after she’d finally fallen asleep. The terrible mood Theo had been in since that morning was all Draco needed to know. Potter was not doing better, he had an expression on his face that was a mix of irritated and hurt while Weasley sometimes looked at Draco with confusion and other times with a glare that said he would have preferred to see him dead in ditch rather than close to Hermione.

It was not the best mindset for a group that was about to try and infiltrate a Hogwarts under Death Eaters’ control, but Draco didn’t know what to say to anyone, he could barely keep Hermione calm as it was. Something about impending danger had pushed his mind into a mixed and strangely calm state of half-occlumency that allowed him to be sharper than he’d been in months, the only advantage he felt he had in the current situation.

‘Let’s… finish to prepare ourselves’ he said dismissing everyone from where they’d gathered in the entrance hallway.

Blaise climbed the stairs to the roof to keep smoking, Pansy went into the kitchen taking out pots and pans and then putting them away again as Lovegood just watched her, and Weasley went up to his room with a sour expression on his face. It was just him, Hermione, Theo, Potter, and the uncomfortable silence between the latter two. He’d filled in Hermione on their argument that morning and she’d told him not to interfere, Draco had agreed with her.

‘Excited to see the Weasleiette again?’ Theo sneered, voice colder than it had been in months, if not years, as an expression of hurt crossed Potter’s face.

‘Theo, we talked about this’ Potter sighed.

Next to him, Hermione squeezed his hand, clearly as uncomfortable as he was. He started to gently move them toward the living room when Theo stopped them.

‘Hey, Draco! Does it ever come up between you and Granger how guilty she feels for having having sex with you because she has _obligations_ towards the _Weasleys_?’

Draco was petrified by his words, by his own fears, because yes, he and Hermione had never talked about it, and he often thought… he often thought she would leave him behind. They’d never had the kind of easy and out-in-the-open relationship Theo and Potter had fallen into, obvious to everyone but Ron Weasley. He and Hermione never talked. Not about _them_. Which, obviously, meant there wasn’t a _them_ , Draco was fully capable of reading between the lines.

‘I wasn’t… you are misinterpreting my words!’ Potter exclaimed ‘You know how much the Weasleys mean to me, after the Dursleys…’

‘I’m sorry I can’t live up to your Witch Weekly cover-perfect family!’

‘That is not what I said, and you know it!’ Potter was screaming now, and it was Hermione who dragged him into the living room, closing the door to the argument, yet it lingered in the air between them. It made Draco more anxious than even the prospect of apparating in the middle of a Dementors-infested Hogsmade.

‘This could be very dangerous’ Hermione said after some minutes of silence, swallowing loudly and looking everywhere but at him, as Draco held his breath and waited for the other shoe to drop, for her to leave him behind, to finish it, their arrangement, because it couldn’t work between them, even Potter and Theo…

‘You mean a lot to me’ she murmured, and Draco’s mind went blank.

‘You…’ he started to say, but then he had to stop himself.

_You mean the world to me_ , he wanted to say.

_I think I’ve fallen in love with you_.

_You’re the only good thing in my life and I’m terrified of losing you_.

But what good were such words, such sentiments, when everything was so precariously balanced? When the end was so possible, so near?

‘I’ve killed for you’ he let out in an exhale, and Hermione’s eyes snapped up meeting his, not a trance of uncertainty in his voice as he continued ‘I’ll do it again. Today, tomorrow, no matter how long the battle will be. I’ll kill everyone who tries to hurt you’

Hermione walked closer, her breath short, laboured.

‘Because you…’ she didn’t finish the sentence, but there was hope in her eyes, and Draco suddenly couldn’t take it.

Of all the risks he had taken since his life crumbled at the end of fifth year, this was the one step he refused to take, not with Potter and Theo tearing each other apart in the next room, not after what he’d seen happen between his parents as Lucius was freed from Azkaban.

His mother had always told him that the best lies where the ones that remind close to the truth. Draco had already told her the truth, Greyback was just the beginning, so he lied.

‘Because you are the only one who can help Potter, and Potter winning will save my family’

Something dimmed in her eyes as she nodded, her mouth moving as if to speak, but no words came out.

_You are my family_ , he wanted to tell her, but she didn’t… she would never want him like that. She was just… it was just the fear, that was making her talk about feelings, he’d given her some physical comfort and she’d grown accustomed to that. He could understand, he could force himself to.

‘Right’ was all she said looking away.

The fight between Potter and Theo had died down, Draco could hear them walk up the stairs, and he moved to the door to leave Hermione alone before he said something stupid, but her words stopped him.

‘I will do it, too’ she said.

He turned around and she refused to face him.

‘I am in debt to you, for Greyback, so I will… We look out for each other, as always. We’re a team’ she said, and the words sounded strangely hollow.

‘We are’ he agreed, and she nodded, giving him her back.

Draco forced himself to walk out of the living room.

* * *

Half an hour later they were ready. They split up and apparated accordingly in their designated areas outside of Hogsmade.

Hermione was the one who apparated them as Draco held her hand. After their brief talk in the living room, something cold seemed to have washed over her, smoothing her anxieties until there was nothing but cold determination and precision in all her movements. He decided it was better not to speak as they started to carefully make their way into the village as the sun sank lower and lower on the horizon. They could already see them clearly now: Dementors flying around Hogwarts, but also some hoovering closer to the village.

The concealment spell seemed to work, it allowed them to slip into the village unnoticed. Everything seemed to be going fine, right until it didn’t.

While they had avoided the alarm jinxes, as soon as they moved into the main road of the village towards the castle, the Dementors started to swarm toward them more and more as the light disappeared from the sky. It was as if they could sense them, their hope, a meal waiting for them to feast upon.

It took ten minutes for Draco and Hermione to exchange a worried look and admit silently that they had severely underestimated the number of Dementors. There were so many of them it was like a cloud of pure darkness and dread moving towards them. They tried to walk faster, and then run, but in a moment it was upon them.

As they sprinted across the village and toward the road that led to the castle, Draco could see the others slowly appear around them on the main road as the Dementors’ powers hindered their capacity to keep the concealment spell on. He and Hermione lasted a little bit longer, but eventually they were out in the open as well, their cover blown.

Draco tried not let fear to paralyse him, slamming his walls in place. They had a contingency plan, they could survive this. As only Hermione, Potter, Weasley and Lovegood could summon a patronus to keep them safe, they would try to move together, but as more and more Dementors swarmed towards them, it became hard to fight back. It was like being slowly swallowed by darkness itself.

They kept running as fast as they could, Weasley and Lovegood’s patronus moving around them, trying to protect them, but the darkness only seemed to become even more deeper, every spark of light disappearing, until Weasley’s hound and Lovegood’s hare were swallowed as well. Potter’s stag appeared and started to move around them, but it clearly had trouble keeping the Dementors at bay.

‘Go! Go!’ Draco shouted letting go of Hermione’s hand. He pushed her away even as she fought back, and he was grateful when, even in the dark, he could see Weasley’s hand curling around her arm, dragging her away, because he was a liability in that moment. He was already cursing himself for how long it took him to realise it.

Draco didn’t know how sentient Dementors were, how the Dark Lord controlled them, but it was as if they knew he was a traitor, his left arm burning as if the mark had never been forcibly removed. They swarmed around him, and as Draco stopped moving, as he let the Dementors get closer and closer, his only comfort was that Hermione, Theo, Blaise and Pansy were able to run away. In the darkness, the only thing standing between him and insanity, between the Dementors and his soul, was his Occlumency. Draco could feel their cold fingers scraping at his walls, trying to claw their way inside him. There was absolute darkness in his mind, absolute darkness when he opened his eyes, just the cold fingers of the Dementors slowly and painfully cracking his walls, pain unbearably hot shooting through his body despite the freezing cold that enveloped his body.

In the darkness, Draco almost succumbed.

He could hear nothing, not even his own screams, just the deafening wind created by the Dementors moving around him, by them trying to kiss him into oblivion, until something else slowly broke through, a whisper that became louder and louder until it was shout.

‘ _DRACO_!’

Someone was screaming his name, that was his name, he had a name. He’d been so focused on his walls it was as if he’d become one, trying to withstand the ongoing attack. In the darkness, he could hear that voice shout his name again and again. There was something he had to do, something he could do… to help himself, to stop his walls from crumbling…

Draco left the siege against the walls at the forefront of his mind and retreated back to memories he’d hidden for so long he’d almost forgotten about them. He thought about his mother’s small gestures of love, her hand on his cheek and the small smile that curved her lips. He thought about the way his father would sometimes look at him from afar, on those rare days when the reality of his choices allowed him some respite. He thought about Theo, Blaise and Pansy, laughing with him late at night in the common room, their friendship warming something inside him. Draco though of Hermione, of her soft smile in the early mornings, her eyes under the moonlight in the forest, the wonder on her face at every new discovery about magic, the way she held his hand and the way she kissed him. Finally, Draco thought about the feeling of belonging that had steadily risen like the tide inside him every time Hermione looked at him with that mix between possessiveness and affection that was distinctly _her_ , even when Potter and Weasley were near.

Draco didn’t shout the spell. It was a murmur on his lips that tasted like the warmth of Hermione’s skin, it enveloped him with the same safety he felt when she wrapped her arms around him, and it was as strong as the silent determination he had glimpsed in his mother’s eyes the last time he saw her.

‘ _Expecto Patronum_ ’

Light erupted from his wand as Draco slowly stood up on uncertain legs, the silver mist taking the form of a lion roaring silently into the darkness, tearing the Dementors around him apart. Draco looked at it with awe, surprised that he’d managed it at all. At the other end of the street, another patronus shot up into the sky like lightning, dispersing the remaining Dementors. It was a shining dragon that danced with the lion over them, casting a blue silver light all over Hogsmade.

When he looked down, towards the source of the patronus, Draco saw a familiar figure, her hair shining like a halo around her.

_Hermione_.


End file.
